by Alta Hensley
Adira’s hand moved to Zoya’s arm, giving it a squeeze. “What she means is that we want you to know that we are here for you—”
“If you’re going to translate for me, do it correctly,” Jennie said, cutting Adira off. “I might be older, but I’m not the least bit senile, missy. I’m not one to say things I don’t mean. Though I admit, the question was rhetorical, as I can tell just by looking at Zoya that it isn’t going well. So the real question is, are we going to sit around like casual social acquaintances and share a bottle or two of wine and pretend everything is just spiffy, or are we going to remember we are a family willing to get down and dirty and be honest with each other?”
“I’m not family…”
“Yes, you are,” Jennie said without hesitating. “I know it, and that stubborn boy of mine knows it.”
Zoya lifted her glass only to find it empty. Adira braced her foot against the plank floor to stop the swing as she leaned forward and grabbed the bottle, filling Zoya’s glass and topping off her own before setting the swing into motion again. “She’s right, you know, and I’ve always wished for a sister, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
A sister. Besides their attraction to the Steele men, the desire for a sister was obviously something else the two women shared. As for Jennie, she was unlike anyone Zoya had ever met, and yet she loved her as much as she loved her own family. Family… a very powerful word.
“Stryder and I had a fight, a big one,” she blurted out. “He’s wrong but now he’s gone and… what if he doesn’t—”
“He’s coming back,” Adira cut in to assure her. “They are all coming back.”
Zoya shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. Even though I don’t know exactly what they are doing… or why they went to Dubai instead of Russia, I’ve seen Stryder in action. I meant what if he doesn’t want me to be here when he gets home?”
“Nonsense. I heard him talking to you before he left. Unless my hearing is gone, which it’s not, I heard him informing you that you’d be having a talk when he got back,” Jennie said.
“If he’s anything like Maddox, I’d be more worried about what position you’re going to be in for that talk if I were you,” Adira said. “You’d better enjoy sitting while you still can.”
Zoya’s head swiveled between the two women, neither of whom looked the least bit concerned about the bluntness of their words. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she said, “I’d take a hot ass over a cold shoulder any day.”
“Me too,” Adira said with a giggle before she turned serious. “You said Stryder was wrong but did you really give him a chance to explain his point of view?”
“I don’t need to hear it,” Zoya said. “My friend is dead and it’s Sophia’s fault!” She ranted for a few minutes, telling them her version of the conversation and ending with, “How Stryder can even think for a second that Sophia isn’t guilty is beyond me.”
“Let me tell you a story,” Jennie said. Zoya nodded, not truly understanding the reasoning but knowing she needed to calm down. She listened as Jennie wove a tale about love and a wedding and the joy of giving birth to a daughter, all wonderful things that she couldn’t help but accept she’d also dreamed of experiencing. When the tale turned dark to include fear and desperation, betrayal and murder, she felt her stomach clench. But when Jennie spoke softly of deep despair and choices that threatened to rip a woman’s very soul apart, she felt her heart ache.
Jennie continued softly. “No one questions the fact that you’ve gone through something horrid, but you need to ask yourself what would you have done, Zoya? If you knew that the life of your daughter depended on you, if you lived in abject terror every moment of the day, never knowing if something you did, said or shared would be the one thing that had a madman killing the very child he’d held while your husband was murdered, what would you do to save her?”
“Anything,” Zoya said, tears streaming down her face. She turned to Adira. “I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know you had a child…”
“I didn’t,” Adira said. “Jennie is telling you the story Pops told us at the table this morning. That is what Stryder was trying to tell you, to explain why the promise he’d made wasn’t one he could fulfill…”
Zoya was stunned, memories of Stryder’s words, his expression, his plea for her to listen all came flooding back. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain, so sure he had failed her, so positive he’d broken yet another promise…
“Oh, God, I-I… blamed him for Anya’s death. I accused him of breaking his promise. I said such awful things…”
Jennie moved from her chair to kneel in front of Zoya, plucking the empty wine glass from her fingers and then taking her hands in hers.
“Every one of our men would rather die than to break a promise made. The only one responsible for Anya’s death, for Sophia’s choices, is Vasily Poplov.”
“I… I know but I was so mad, so angry that I refused to listen,” Zoya acknowledged and a thought came to her. “Stryder had to know that I'd be angry. Instead of telling me at the table, Stryder brought me out here… he was trying to spare me…”
“No, child,” Jennie said, squeezing her hands. “Stryder didn’t bring you out here to spare you anything as there was no reason to do so. He knew that hearing Drake relay the information, you’d have not only him but the rest of us to help you through the anger it would bring. Zoya, Stryder brought you out here to share his own story.”
“But he didn’t say anything about himself,” Zoya began, only to feel Jennie squeeze her fingers tighter and see the soft, caring expression fill her eyes. “I didn’t give him a chance, did I?”
“No, but that is something you can fix when he returns.”
“Will you tell me so I can be prepared? So I don’t say something stupid or that will hurt him?”
“No,” Jennie said, “that story is only for Stryder to tell. But I will tell you this, every one of the Steele men have seen things, done things that most people could never imagine. Things that would have broken others have only made them stronger, more determined to right wrongs. They not only accept the fact that they often work outside the boundaries of the law, they embrace it. They answer to no one except each other, and if you ask me, that is the highest level of court. You won’t find better men on this planet.”
Zoya felt tears streaming down her cheeks, knowing that each word Jennie spoke was true and yet she’d thrown that knowledge away when Stryder had needed her. She’d told him not to touch her, not to speak to her…
“Child, don’t,” Jennie said, releasing one of her hands to use her finger to wipe away a tear. “These men are also the most caring, most loving men I’ve ever been blessed to know. Do not waste time wallowing in the guilt you feel, for I promise, Stryder has already forgiven you.”
“Do… do you really think so?”
“I know so,” Jennie said, slowly rising from her kneeling position only to pull Zoya up from the swing and into her arms.
Zoya clung to her, the words and the touch giving her hope that she’d felt was lost the moment she’d slammed the bedroom door. About to thank Jennie, she found herself yelping instead. Pulling back, she gaped at the sight of her sandal in Adira’s hand.
“What the hell was that?”
“This? Oh, I brought your sandals back from the garden.”
“Not that, why did you spa… you know,” Zoya said, her hand rubbing against the back of her dress.
“That was just a little reminder that while our men are all loving and definitely forgiving, they do have hands of steel…” Adira burst into giggles, gasped and said, “Get it, they are named Steele and their hands…” She lost it again, her arms wrapped across her torso as peals of laughter rang out.
“Good grief,” Jennie said with a laugh. “She gets it and, girl, you’ve really got to work on your tolerance level. First a bit of weed, and now wine? Is there any vice that doesn’t send you for a loop?”
Adira gasped unti
l she got herself under control and then grinned. “Is a good session in the dungeon or a round of the most amazing sex in the world afterwards considered a vice?”
Zoya forgot about the twinge in her ass at Adira’s question. The woman had been perfectly sober a moment ago and yet now, well, she was obviously tipsy. Still, Zoya had to grin as she shot Jennie a look before retaking her place on the swing. “So, complete honesty among us, right?”
Adira gave a nod while Jennie chuckled before speaking. “If this is gonna get really good, I need to visit my special troll friend. I’ll be right back.”
Zoya could only watch as the woman walked away, her patchwork skirt swaying a couple of inches above her bare feet.
“Troll friend?”
“He’s cute,” Adira said and then frowned. “But Pops might not approve, since Jennie didn’t get shot again.”
“What? Jennie was shot?” Zoya said, wondering if Adira was too far gone in her cups to make sense.
“If you pour me another glass of this delicious wine, I’ll tell you another story,” Adira said, now smiling.
Zoya shook her head but picked up the wine bottle. “Are you sure? You seem a little, um…”
“Oh, don’t be a pooper, we’re having a party!”
Zoya wasn’t exactly sure what Adira meant, but she emptied the last of the wine into their glasses. Sipping her wine, she had to admit that while the men in this family might be everything Jennie had said, the women were just as fascinating, and they didn’t spank… well, not really. Slipping her sandals on, it was her foot that set the swing into motion this time.
By the time she and Jennie helped Adira up the stairs, the pair of them giggling like loons as they tucked the beautiful woman into bed, the sun had long gone down. Zoya had not only experienced her first marijuana, and enjoyed it, she had learned that, unlike Adira, it didn’t make her instantly high but it did make her famished. Between them, they’d finished off an entire container of hummus, eaten with carrots, celery, and strips of bell peppers, the rest of the soup Jennie had in the refrigerator, a huge dish of berries, and several slices of bread slathered with honey.
They’d decided to move into the house when uninvited mosquitoes had decided to crash their party. As they entered the study, Zoya saw the bottles behind the bar.
“You know, vodka is made from potatoes.”
“So it is,” Jennie said with a grin as she flipped a switch and music began to fill the room. “Be my guest.” Fiddling with the dial, Jennie found a station, clapping her hands. “I love this song!”
“You love eve… er… all songs,” Adira said, with yet another bout of giggles.
Zoya had finished her first shot when suddenly Adira hoisted herself out of the huge recliner she’d dropped into only to begin weaving about the room. Zoya tilted her head to the side.
“I think she’s drunk,” Zoya said. “I can’t understand a single word she’s saying.”
“Oh, she’s not talking, she’s singing the song of the bees,” Jennie said, wrapping her arm around Adira’s waist, her hum joining in the tune, the two moving about the room as she began yet another story.
Zoya had been a bit skeptical of how Jennie had introduced Adira to dancing with the bees, but she’d listened with rapt attention and hoped that one day soon she could join them.
She’d been shocked to learn that Jennie had really been shot, and not the least bit surprised to learn how Drake and the others had defended her.
With Adira snoring softly, she and Jennie left her room, their arms wrapped around each other’s waist as they walked through the darkened house towards Zoya’s bedroom.
“Thank you, Jennie,” Zoya said softly, turning to give the woman a full hug. “I can’t even begin to tell you what you… what both of you mean to me.”
Jennie hugged her back. “I’m glad because you mean the world to us.” They walked into the room and as Jennie pulled back the covers of the bed, Zoya pulled the sundress over her head, dropping it on the floor. When Jennie told her to lift her arms, she did so without thought as the older woman guided her head through the gown’s opening. Within minutes, Zoya was between the sheets and Jennie was tucking her in.
“Jennie?” Zoya asked quietly. “Do you really think Stryder will forgive me?”
She felt the warmth of Jennie’s palm as she placed it against her cheek. “He already has. I said you mean the world to us but, child, you are the world to Stryder.”
Zoya felt her eyes flood with tears but they weren’t from sadness, they were from the sense of utter acceptance and peace she’d found with these incredible people. Jennie bent and kissed her cheek before leaving and Zoya turned over, drawing the pillow where Stryder had last rested his head to her. Pressing her face into it, she inhaled his scent. “You’re my world, too. Come back to me… come home.”
Zoya slept late the next day, waking with a soft groan and an aching head. Not bothering to change, she walked into the kitchen only to clutch her head and moan. “Oh, God, please, turn it down.”
Jennie lowered the volume of the radio, her curls bouncing as she shook her head. “And here I thought the younger generation had stamina.”
“Depends on the activity,” Adira said as she joined them, wearing nothing more than her husband’s t-shirt she’d allowed them to put her into the night before. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”
“There is,” Jennie said. “Sit down and I’ll bring it to you.” Adira sat, rubbing her temples until Jennie placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. “Zoya? Tea, or would you prefer a bit of hair of the dog? Tequila is a gift of the agave plant and…”
Zoya felt her stomach lurch and groaned. “God, I don’t think I’ll ever drink again. Actually, I’d like coffee, please.”
“Well, well, we’re gonna turn you girls into Texans yet,” Jennie said with a laugh. Both women drank their coffee in silence, nibbling on toast that Jennie insisted they eat. When Zoya’s head began to sag to her chest, Jennie said, “Go back to bed, the both of you.”
“No, I want to be here when Stryder gets home.”
“That won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest,” Jennie said. “You’ve got plenty of time to pull yourself together. Now, shoo.”
Adira stood and held out her hand. “You heard her, let’s go sleep it off. I don’t know about you but if Maddox finds me like this, my ass is grass and I’ll be sleeping on my tummy, a position I’m not particularly fond of.”
Zoya took her hand and the two left the kitchen. Adira steered them towards Zoya’s room, saying, “She didn’t say we had to go to our own rooms. How about a slumber party?”
“I’d like that,” Zoya said.
The next morning found both women recovered and Zoya antsy. After breakfast, the three had spent a couple of hours in the garden, Zoya weeding properly this time. Adira and Zoya helped wash and chop the vegetables they’d gathered as Jennie was planning on making a big pot of soup. Again, it was the older woman who gave Zoya direction.
“You’re wound as tight as a spring. Why don’t you go for a run?”
“I can’t,” Zoya said. “I promised Stryder I’d not run alone. And, to quote Adira, if he found out, it would be my ass that was grass.”
“I’ll call Kurt at the stables. I’m sure he can round up someone to go with you,” Jennie suggested.
Adira waved her off. “No need, I’ll go.”
Zoya turned to her in surprise. “I thought you hated running.”
“Well, hate is a strong word. It’s not my favorite activity but sisters are supposed to be supportive of each other.”
Her words touched Zoya deeply. “I’ll make you a deal. You can run with me if you promise to show me how not to be afraid of horses.”
“That’s great! We can ride together later…”
“God no! I mean, not right now. I just want to get over this fear and then… maybe I can ride with Stryder, oh, and you, of course.”
“Of course,” Adira said with a
grin before adding, “you’ve got a deal. I’ll meet you back here in five.”
The women ran along the road, ponytails bouncing, arms pumping and sneakers pounding. Zoya kept her pace slower than normal and yet didn’t mind. She was running and with every step, she felt her anxiety lessen. She figured they’d covered a little more than a mile when she became aware of the fact that Adira was doing a great deal of huffing rather than breathing. Gradually slowing down, she then stopped but kept jogging in place. “How about a break?”
“Thank God,” Adira panted, bending over, her hands on her knees, gulping in huge swallows of oxygen. When she could speak without gasping, she straightened. “You love this?”
“Yes, I do,” Zoya said with a laugh. “It calms me down and lets me think clearly.” Adira’s face showed her disbelief. Zoya held out her hand, “Come on, we can walk a bit. If you can make it to the lake, I’ll tell you a story.”
“So, you don’t think it’s weird that even though Stryder spanked me when I ran off that day, all I wanted to do was jump his bones?” Zoya asked as they sat on the bank, tossing pebbles into the water as she shared her story.
Adira smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. The first moment Maddox swatted me, I was shocked, pissed off and turned on. So, even if it is a little weird, who cares? I’m not about to give it up.”
“Not even if he spanks you really hard?”
“No if about it. He has, and I can unequivocally state that only makes me love him more.”
Zoya thought about the statement, having no doubt that Adira was sincere. Finally, she smiled and nodded. “Good to know, as I have a feeling that I’m gonna be answering that question for myself very soon.”
“You do know that it is really the submissive who has the power, right? I promise if you tell Stryder that you can’t accept spanking as discipline, he’ll find something else…”
“Over my dead body,” Zoya said. “If I’m going to be punished, I not only want to actually feel punished, I want to feel guilt free.”
