by Lietha Wards
“Th-they’re here.”
“No one is here.”
“I saw—”
“It’s your mind playing tricks on you. Be strong and rationalize this. I could spot a threat a mile away. There’s no one here even looking at you except me. Now, again, deep breath.”
She nodded and inhaled unsteadily. She was hyperventilating and had difficulty calming herself.
“Take your time and take another breath, and don’t take your eyes off of me.”
Her ears were ringing from fear, but his voice was deep and soothing. She did exactly as he said.
“Better?”
She nodded. “I—I think so.”
“Now look around again.”
“I—I can’t. They’re everywhere,” she stammered.
“No, it’s in your head. Don’t let it control you. Look around.” He released her and stepped back.
Slowly she turned and looked at the crowd. The one dark skinned man was retrieving his son from a crude rendition of a sand castle and swinging him up in the air laughing. It wasn’t the man she thought. Everyone else was carrying on with their enjoyment of the nice hot day. No one was looking at her, and no one seemed to even know she existed. “I thought I saw—“
“Like I said, it’s in your mind.”
“It felt like everyone was watching me. It seemed so real.”
“It always does Katya.”
She felt a tear escape and run down her cheek. She roughly wiped it off with the palm of her hand. She didn’t like feeling like this. She didn’t even seem in control of her own mind. “I didn’t realize it was so bad. I thought I had a handle on it when I left the hospital. I never had these hallucinations before.” She couldn’t possibly imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t insisted on coming along. She was being too damn stubborn too soon.
“That’s why you need to talk about it. Post-traumatic stress does not go away over time. It gets worse and then there comes the reoccurring difficulty of separating the hallucinations from reality.”
She looked away to the horizon. “I don’t trust that psychiatrist, and I don’t trust my father. I know he’ll tell him everything.”
“If you want, I can find someone who you can talk to.”
She faced him again. “I can talk to you.”
“Katya, I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“It crosses certain lines.”
“What lines? You’re my bodyguard and I’m supposed to trust you enough to save my life.”
“Personal lines,” he elaborated trying his best to keep his expression professional.
“Oh please. I was practically naked in your arms last night. I think we’ve crossed that boundary.” God, did she really say that without stuttering…or blushing? Well, what do you know, he was capable of surprise. It was subtle but there. Then he smiled. Be still my beating heart. He was utterly gorgeous. There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes to go with it and she was momentarily captivated.
“Come, I’ll race you back.” He took off.
She felt herself grin and ran after him.
He took it easy on her and didn’t go more than fifty feet ahead. Maybe having a bodyguard would be so bad after all.
CHAPTER THREE
She could say dinner was horrible, but it was way worse than that. Katya knew she had to be there because her father would insist on it. She had no fight left in her after today. Thankfully it started out just fine for her. Hardly a word was spoken and she refused to even acknowledge anything her father said. He sat at the head of the table. Ivan sat to his right and she on his left. Beside her sat Ryan. At the other end of the table sat her father’s twenty-something girlfriend, Porsha. He had several, and always had since her mother died, but it was something she grew up with so she never noticed it as odd. Her father liked women, that was no secret. Problem was, they were getting younger and younger, and that alone disgusted her. Porsha was only a few years older than herself, and she had yet to take her eyes off of Ryan. She spared him a few inviting glances, and he seemed not to even notice the attraction. Well, she should know better by now. He didn’t pay attention to things like that. After all, he wasn’t a shallow man. Still, Katya found it very annoying and distracting. If anyone else noticed, nothing was said. This was not a normal family after all. The more she was around them, the more she despised it. She also now appreciated the fact she wasn’t raised there in such chaos.
Except for their final two years of high school, her and her sister came home for holidays, and special occasions, but that was it. That’s why she knew nothing about what her father did to gain his wealth. She felt ashamed and guilty about the whole thing. Maybe she was just purposely ignoring the coming and going of men who looked like they belonged in a jail cell, not an expensive suit, like Ivan. Even now, like every other family dinner, there were up to half a dozen men sitting at the table that she wasn’t related to. She never thought it was odd until now. Most people have family, but these men, most of them she’d known since she could remember, were always at the table. Her father had many men, either patrolling the grounds, or around the house, for security, but again, it never occurred to her as unusual. There was a time she might have held affection for them. Now she just plain hated all of them.
Throughout dinner, her father carried on conversation as if it was a normal ordinary, everyday, gathering. She wanted to throw something at him. So for the most part she kept her head bowed, and just picked at her food.
“Ivan said you went for a run,” her father stated.
So much for being left alone. That statement was meant for her. She brought her head up and looked at Ivan. Her eyes narrowed.
He glanced away and pretended to eat.
She was angry. One bodyguard was enough. She didn’t need to be spied on by one of her father’s goons.
“That is good, isn’t it? You are getting better.”
Her mouth fell open. Better? She had a breakdown in the middle of a public beach and woke up screaming the night before! Suddenly she felt Ryan’s hand on hers under the table. He gave it a squeeze, then released her. She looked up at him but he never indicated he did that. She knew why. Her father would not give up until she answered him and Ryan was telling her to do just that; to say something to get him to leave her alone. How she knew that, surprised her, but she took the unspoken advice against her own wishes. She took a long deep breath. “I did. It was fine.”
“Good! That’s great news.” Peter lifted a glass of wine in a silent cheer and took a long drink.
She really hated him. He acted as if it was nothing, what she went through. She stared at him for a long while waiting for some indication that it bothered him that she was locked in a dark room and tortured, that she heard the screams of her sister; screams that she will never get out of her head.
“Next week, I’m having a party. I want you there, proper. I need people to see that you’ve recovered.”
Her mouth fell open. Recovered? She was hallucinating, and hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep unless she self-medicated!
He just started talking to Ivan after that as if the conversation never happened.
She turned her head and looked up at Ryan who had his brows raised to say, ‘well, that went as expected’. She returned her attention to her food and took a few small bites. It occurred to her then that Ryan Casey seemed to understand how her father was more than she did. That made her angrier. He’d barely been there twenty-four hours and he knew more than she did in her lifetime. It made her feel very naïve, and she didn’t like that at all. Was she so stupid not to notice, or did she just turn a blind eye to it all these years?
She tossed her napkin on her plate and stood up. “I’m going to bed—no stay. I’ll be fine by myself up the stairs to my jail cell,” she added sarcastically when Ryan went to stand. To her relief he stayed where he was. She turned and left abruptly.
“She hates me still,” Peter stated while watching his daughter�
��s back.
“She’ll be fine,” chimed Porsha. “Girls like us just need some time.”
Peter smiled. “I guess you would know.”
“Maybe I can talk to her,” she further suggested. “Maybe she just needs some girl-time. We can go shopping and just spend a day together.”
Oh shit, thought Ryan. He had a vision of Kat tossing her out of her room by her hair or pushing her out of a moving car on the freeway. He’d seen the disgust in her eyes toward the other woman and knew that she just needed a reason to explode. Ryan remained silent.
The older man turned his attention to his new employee. “Has she told you anything about her captivity?”
“No sir.”
“Do you think she will?”
“No.”
Peter studied the younger man for a moment to see if he was lying. His men wouldn’t dare lie to him, but this was an outsider. His daughter was an intelligent, beautiful woman and he was hired to protect her, so he could be loyal to her already. “What makes you say this?”
“It’s too soon. She’s not ready, and might not be for a very long time.”
“She’s told you this?”
“No.”
“What has she told you then?”
“She’s told me that she remembers nothing,” Ryan answered. He left the beach incident out.
Peter’s eyes remained on Ryan’s for a moment longer to try and read him. Then he seemed satisfied that he told the truth. “I am hoping that she gets over hating me soon.”
Again, Ryan remained silent. He doubted very much that was going to happen in Peter’s timeline.
He waved an arm in the air. “I should have had a son. My wife gave me daughters—so emotional, so dramatic.” He was serious but Porsha laughed as if it was a joke. Peter smiled at her, that way an adult smiles at a simple child.
There it was, the reason Ryan wanted to pull his gun and put a bullet between his eyes. His daughter was kidnapped, tortured, and left exposed for the world to see, and he could only talk about having a son. He had no idea what family was. “Excuse me.” He got up and left the table.
“I don’t trust him.” He heard Ivan say as he walked away. He was sure it was loud enough for his benefit.
Katya was sitting in a settee in her room when he walked in. She had a lamp on the side table and was reading a book.
“I don’t want company.” She spoke without looking up.
“I wasn’t offering company, Kat. I’m just doing my job.” He smirked and went back to his room. He heard her moving around and she appeared in his doorway.
“I need to go sign up for my classes tomorrow.”
“That’s fine.”
“Do you have to come?”
He turned and faced her. His eyes studied her expression for a moment. “I think the beach incident this morning is testament that I have to.” His eyebrows rose. “And I will not fight with you over your frustration with your father.”
“Hatred—hatred of my father,” she corrected.
He nodded. “That too.”
She ran her fingers through her hair and walked into his room. Then she sat on his bed and stared up at him. “This was my sister’s room.” She looked around. “He’s removed everything that reminded us of her. I mean, you can’t even tell that it used to have a feminine theme. Now, it’s just neutral. I don’t know if he’s trying to make her vanish from his life, or mine, like she never existed.”
“You still have memories.”
She nodded. “My last ones are not something that I want to hang onto.”
He walked over and sat beside her. “And what memories are those?”
“I thought this was crossing lines?”
“Talk.”
She looked at him and pursed her lips into a thin line. “At first, I was blindfolded and my hands were tied behind my back. It seemed like hours I was left like that on a cold cement floor. Someone finally came, untied me, and took off the blindfold. I was in a cold, dark room. It was always dark, no lights except when they came to—to—”.
He held up a hand cutting her off. He knew those memories were painful and she honestly didn’t have to describe what they did to her. He knew from the bruises she still had. He was already disgusted and angry over it. He needed to stay on track and remember why he was here—Georgy. “Besides that. Anything significant?”
“It also smelled bad—moldy, and musty. The only time I really saw anything was when we were grabbed off the street and they blindfolded us. I saw a bit under the blindfold when we were laying down in the back of a van. I saw a man. He was the same one who came in the room and hurt me. He also brought food, water.”
“Would you recognize a mug shot?”
“I would never forget his face. Dark skinned—he had a birthmark here.” She pointed to her right cheek, under her eye. “It was darker than his skin and about the size of a dime. His eyes were unfeeling, dark, and they haunt my dreams. I won’t ever identify him though, so don’t ask me to. He had a deep voice with an accent. I could barely understand him. He threatened to come back and finish me like my sister. I believed him.” She shuddered and hugged herself.
“He’d have to get through me first, Katya.”
She tilted her head and stared at him. “I know you have skills Ryan,” she used his name for the first time, “But you don’t know what I’ve been through, or what they are capable of. It does damage.”
“You don’t know me enough to say that.”
Her eyes studied his handsome features. She supposed he was right. “Does anyone really know you?”
“No.”
“Why is that?”
“I only let them see what I want. It makes things less complicated, and gives me the element of surprise.”
“I figured that out after ten minutes of meeting you.” Her eyes searched his. “That must be a very lonely existence.”
“You get used to it.”
“Again, why do you do that to yourself?”
“I like things simple. Uncomplicated.”
“Really?” she chuckled.
“What’s amusing?”
She stood up. “Ryan, you are the most complicated person I’ve ever met.” She turned and went back to her room.
He stared at the empty doorway thoughtfully.
That night, the terrors returned. She was suffocating and suddenly felt strong, familiar warm arms around her. Again she clung to him. “God, did I scream this time?” she buried her face in his chest and took a weeping breath.
“No.” He tightened his arms around her and lowered his face into her hair inhaling deeply. She still smelled like roses.
“Good, my father won’t come then.” She muffled against him. She could detect the faint scent of masculine cologne. It was actually quite soothing. Her hands pressed against his abdomen, and the muscles tightened and moved under her fingers. He was hard everywhere. She could feel the bulk of his biceps against her upper arms, and the heat of his hands on her back. Safe, she felt safe. She breathed deep again, slower this time. Gosh, that had to be a record on eliminating her night fears.
He’d heard her soft cries from his room and was able to reach her before she cut loose like the night before. He sat on the side of the bed and touched her face lightly. She bolted upright and gripped him tight. She actually recovered quicker this time. “What was your dream about?”
She moved back and stared up at him. “It’s my sister. It’s always my sister. She was screaming in terror and there’s nothing I could do.”
Jesus Christ.
“It’s so horrific. I just don’t know how to get that out of my head.”
Ryan knew the screams of the dying. He’d seen the senseless slaughter of people from war-torn countries, from factions claiming right to rule. He knew the pain of seeing children die and anguished screaming mothers. He closed his eyes for a moment to wash it away. She noticed. A soft hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes.
“You know, don�
��t you?”
He stared at her for a moment. “I’ve seen some horrific things in my line of work. Yes, I know.”
“Do you have any idea how much better that makes me feel? No one here understands anything.”
“That’s why you need to talk about it, Katya.”
She nodded and released him. “I’ll be okay now.”
He stood up. “I’ll leave the door open all the way.”
“Thank you.” She laid back down and rolled to her side, away from him.
He looked down the length of her, his expression unreadable, before he turned and left the room.
Katya stared at the wall for a long moment before she shut her eyes and drifted into a restful sleep. The first time since her kidnapping.
The next morning she felt surprisingly restored. She showered and pulled on a pair of designer jeans and light patterned blouse. She was going to go sign up for her last year of college today, and even though she was fighting that familiar terror of going out, she had to push through it. Besides, she had a very capable man protecting her. Speaking of which, he had been moving about in the room next to hers, then he left for a moment. When he returned she could see through the crack in the door that he was dressed in an expensive dark grey suit, blue shirt and matching tie. He turned and saw her, and her breath stilled. Oh, this just wouldn’t do. She couldn’t be attracted to this man. He’d be gone just as quick as he came into her life, and she knew he wasn’t a commitment type of guy.
“I’ve got the car waiting.”
That was thoughtful. “Thank you.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.” She grabbed her purse off a nearby table and walked toward him. He took her elbow and opened the door leading her down the stairs and out of the house toward the car.
