“Alexei,” I say, taking her soft hand in mine and giving it a gentle shake. “Daisy is a nice name.”
“I could say the same of yours,” she says, eyes sparkling. “You don’t exactly get many Alexeis around here.”
“No,” I say, “I can tell.”
“Nobody’s given you any trouble about that, have they?” she adds, looking a little concerned.
I raise my eyebrows and look up and down at my tall, broad-shouldered physique, denim pants, and leather jacket ensemble.
“If they do, it’s behind my back and far away from me.”
She giggles, and by now she’s twirling a lock of hair around her finger. I can’t help but stare at that finger, her hair catching the dim light and seeming to almost sparkle as she plays with it. She’s enchanting.
“So,” I say, the smile fading from my face, “it sounds like you’ve had a rough day.”
“What makes you think that?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. She’s testing me.
“You came in looking like you’ve seen a ghost,” I say, listing things off. “And unless you and the bartender have a running inside joke, this is your first time drinking here. And you accepted a drink from a big Russian stranger,” I finish with a smile. “That hints at a rough day if I’ve ever had one.”
Those long lashes flutter again, and she seems more than a little surprised at my observations.
“Don’t suppose you’re a detective, are you?”
“No,” I laugh, more heartily than I should have.
If she only knew the truth of how wrong she was…
“Well yeah, it may be a small town, but we have our stressful days too. I uh…” She pauses for a moment, and in that second, I know she’s about to lie to me. “You know, just a perfect storm of stuff. Couldn’t sleep last night, late for work, some road trippers passing through town making life hard, that kind of thing. It’s always the little stuff that adds up and boils over, you know?”
“Sure,” I say casually. “Those little things can eat away at you, though, if you have to work with them every day.”
She pauses for a moment, and I can see the gears of her mind turning, wondering what I’m getting at. She dismisses it the next moment, putting on a smile.
“Of course, right, yeah. So, you live outside town, or…?”
I nod and jerk a thumb westward. “I have what I suppose you would call a homestead a few miles west of here. Just a quiet little place I have to myself, and I have almost everything I need there. There isn’t really anything out there to come bother me—nobody demanding my attention, you know?” I add pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her.
She knocks back another gulp of her drink, and I suspect she’s catching on to what I’m hinting at.
“Sounds nice,” she admits. “Do you work around here or something? One of the farms?”
“No,” I say. “I worked hard to build up some savings,” I say, and it’s only a lie of omission. “I’m out here living off that and taking some time to work with my hands on a house I can be proud of. Call it soul-searching.”
It’s either an understatement or a downright lie. You don’t live with the things I’ve done and want to spend too much time looking inwards. At least, no one else I know from the life ever wanted to reflect on any of it.
She looks at me, skeptical, but she doesn’t call me out on it. I wonder if she’s always had good instincts for a lie, or if it’s a skill she’s had to adopt more recently.
“And how’s that treating you?”
“It beats having the kind of day job where you can get cornered by the wrong kind of people,” I say, and I look her straight in the eye, my gaze full of purpose.
She bites her lip and closes her eyes a moment. She knows I overheard what happened with Dean. I can see her thinking. She can still back out if she wants to, and I’m truly curious whether she will. All it would take is to ask me to give her some room, and she wouldn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions.
“How much of that did you hear?” she finally asks, lowering her voice to nearly a whisper.
“Enough to know the man who was cornering you is a special and dangerous kind of man,” I say, lowering my voice as well. I take a long drink of my whiskey and set the glass down. “I know that tone when I hear it in a man, Daisy. What happened between you two?”
She frowns and hesitates another moment.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I admit, “but it might be in the interest of your safety.”
“No, you’re right,” she breathes, rubbing her forehead and taking a swing of her drink. “Just...don’t go talking about it to everyone in town, will you?”
“Do I look like the kind of person who tells anything to everyone in town?” I asked.
“Yeah alright, fair enough,” she says. “That guy you heard, Dean. He works with me, and we’ve known each other a long time. Everyone has, around here. I... I let him take me out on a date once, not too long ago. Finally caved to him.”
“Did he do something to you that you didn’t want?” I asked, my tone growing more serious.
“No,” she said quickly. “Well, not at first. He wouldn’t leave me alone after that first time. At all. He’d corner me at work like that and tell me to go out again, and he hasn’t been taking no for an answer. You saw what he’s like. And—god, why am I telling a stranger all this?” She runs her fingers through her hair, but I gesture for the bartender to bring us another round.
“Because it sounds like it didn’t stop there, and you’re afraid it’s going to get worse,” I say as the bartender sets our drinks before us. “You need someone to tell, as much as you need that drink. Someone who won’t judge, and someone who doesn’t think he’s a... good old boy,” I say, hoping I got the phrasing right.
“Can’t say I’d argue with that,” she says ruefully, finishing off her first drink. “Yeah, something happened. He showed up tonight. At my house.”
I leaned forward, furrowing my eyebrows. She went on.
“I... I don’t know what he was planning. I never thought it would come to this. He seemed really prim and put together when we first started talking, but...” She shakes her head, a frightened look on her face. “He showed up outside my place shouting to high heaven, trying to get me to come down to him. He’s gotten bolder and bolder the more I keep turning him down. I tried to sneak out to the truck, but he heard me and almost caught me. He... god, the way he looked when I got to the truck and turned the headlights on him.”
Her guard down, I can see more of her shaking, frightened eyes, and it fills me with anger and compassion for her.
I put a hand on her bare shoulder, feeling that soft, peaches and cream skin under my rough hand. She feels so sweet, and she looks up at me with a twinkle of something in her eyes. I open my mouth to speak.
Instead, the door swings open, and in strides a group of no less than seven young men I recognize in passing from around town. One of them gives a long, loud cheer as the first one of them to come in orders a round of bourbons for him and his friends.
“...and keep ‘em comin’,” he says, “because my boy Troy here just got engaged, and we’re gonna tear it up ‘till close!”
A moment later, someone finds the jukebox and replaces the sad, slow music with one of the Top 40 pop country songs. When the guys got to dancing and shouting and finding dance partners throughout the bar, the cozy, sleepy venue becomes a madhouse.
Daisy looks jarred, eyes scanning over the group of guys in a near panic.
“He’s not with them,” I assure her, my fingers lightly cupping her jaw and guiding her gaze back to me. Her shoulders are still as tense as they were when the rowdy boys made their entrance.
She needs a calmer night than what they’re here for.
“Sorry,” she says, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I’m just jumpy.”
“You have a right to be, but don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out with you,” I say. I nod to a far corner of t
he bar, a ways away from the rest of the crowd. “In the meantime, want to dance?”
“Hell of a time to dance,” she says with a weak grin.
“As good a time as any,” I say, standing up and returning it as I take her hand and lead her toward the back. “Besides, a distraction will be good for you.”
“So what do they know about dancing in Russia?”
“I don’t think we want to start the night off with Russian dancing,” I say, barely holding back a hearty laugh. “Maybe for a different crowd that’s had a lot more to drink. I’ve lived here long enough to know what you’re all about out here.”
We get to a somewhat more secluded corner, as secluded as we could hope for with the new crowd bustling in, and I don’t wait to take her hand and start leading her in a dance.
I don’t start off slow. That has never been my style when it comes to dancing, and the music doesn’t call for it tonight. Her hand feels soft and warm in mine, and I can feel her heartbeat getting faster through it as I twirl her around and get started.
I didn’t realize how much of a distraction she needed until we started picking up speed. Her eyes only leave me every now and then to look to the door, and when she’s turned away from me, I do the same. I’ve learned how to be subtle about where my gaze travels.
I want to keep her safe, but watching her as much as possible makes her feel safe.
“You’re good,” she says after a few minutes of our bodies moving in tempo with one another, and I watch her smile grow with every passing minute. “You do much dancing back home?”
“I haven’t been home in a long time,” I say. “I like American dancing more.”
“That’ll make you some friends around here real quick,” she says as she brushes up against me, and I let my hand slide over her soft hips as we dance closer.
“I like the one I’ve made so far,” I say, and she goes pink in the face, but she hides it by turning it away from me with a bashful smile.
“You see a lot of the same faces around here after a while,” she says. “It’s nice to meet a new one... and a new one who knows what he’s doing, to boot,” she adds.
I pull her up against me at the end of the song, one arm on her hips and the other holding her hand. “You don’t work your way across the world without knowing what you’re doing.”
As the night wears on, we alternate between dancing and taking breaks to get an icy drink to cool us off. Of course, the alcohol doesn’t help with that in the long run, but it helps loosen up Daisy. And the more she loosens up, the more I realize she just how much she needs it.
A new kind of song starts up, this one a little dirtier than the last few. I notice that most of the guys around the bar have a girl wrapped around them by now, some of them sitting and lost in each other’s embrace, others still up and dancing.
I look to Daisy with a questioning smile, nodding to the dance floor with a raised eyebrow.
“You wanna go there with me?” she asks, her voice tinged with just enough alcohol to have her speaking her thoughts more loosely than usual. There’s a playful smile with her words as she stands up. “I sure wouldn’t stop you.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” I say, and I get her back out on the dance floor. “Not many women would want to be dancing with a stranger after the kind of night you’ve had.”
“Are you kidding?” she laughs as I spin her around and press my hips up against her rear, my cock swelling at the feeling of her round ass pressing into me. “After the night I’ve had, you’re exactly what I need.”
I grind against her, and she pushes herself against me as we dance more slowly, sensuously, but by no means classy. These are country folk, and they’re all here to have a good time with no pretense.
I can appreciate that.
My hands move up and down her sides, and when I squeeze her hips, she responds by getting closer to me, always moving into my grasp, never away. The way our bodies move, there’s no confusion, no missteps, even though we’ve only just met.
We get lost in the sensation, and every time our eyes meet, it’s like those half-seconds in the store drawn out for an eternity.
She turns around and drapes her arms over my shoulders, smiling at me meaningfully. I’ve been with many women before, but something about the way Daisy looks at me electrifies my whole body in a way I can’t explain.
“I don’t wanna go home, Alexei,” she says, and there’s a tinge of sadness to her voice. I realize she’s been waiting to say this, and it’s only now coming out. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen when I do.”
“You don’t have to,” I reply in a low husk. “I have room at my place. Nobody would bother you there.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she says with a soft smile, looking relieved.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. She nods, and I lead her toward the back entrance.
I hold the door open for her, and as she heads out, I look behind her at the dancers and the front door.
And stepping in through the front door at the very same second is Dean.
I see his beady eyes scan the bar, and just before Daisy disappears into the darkness outside, his gaze falls on her, and his eyes go wide. The next second, those cruel eyes lock with mine.
I give him the iciest glare I’ve ever given. It’s silent, and I make no movement with my hands, but he knows damn well it’s a warning to stay back.
Before he can even react, I turn my back on him and walk out, hurrying Daisy toward my truck. She doesn’t need to know what just happened.
Daisy
My heart is pounding so fast it feels like a little sparrow trapped in a cage, fighting to burst free and fly away. It’s taking all of my strength just to keep my head on straight, to keep from gasping at how wild a turn this night has taken.
It’s almost difficult for me to believe that I started out this evening in my bed, listening fearfully as Dean Ashcroft slammed his fist against my front door. I glance at the glowing green numbers on the truck stereo. The time reads 2:13 AM.
I can’t honestly remember the last time I was even awake at two in the morning, much less out and about. I work hard at my job, taking on the longest shifts my manager will allow me to have. I have spent so much time playing catch up, trying to keep my life afloat in the years following my daddy’s death. I was only eighteen when I lost him, and even though he did his best to teach me how to be resilient and resourceful, both of us thought we would have a lot more time together for him to teach me more.
Of course, fate doesn’t give a damn about your plans, and so I lost him way too soon. Way too early. And ever since then I have been scrambling, constantly scrabbling together cash from wherever I could seize it. Hell, I haven’t bought a new pair of shoes or a jacket in at least a year. I live a frugal, quiet life, and apart from the folks I talk to at work, it’s a pretty lonely existence, too.
And I most certainly have not been spending any time around good-looking, mysterious, powerful men in bars.
I can’t even remember the last time I made it out to one of those semi-annual barn dances this little town is so fond of throwing. In high school, that was the thing to do. My friends and I would get all gussied up, put on our flounciest skirts, and angle for a cute boy to ask us to dance. I guess in comparison to what they do at nightclubs in the city, our little country dances were pretty tame. One might even call them lame. But I always had fun, dancing with my friends and talking and laughing way into the night.
Nowadays, though, almost all of my old friends have shipped off across the country for university, leaving me behind along with all those dusty old memories. When Daddy first got sick, I put off my big-time college dreams to stay back here in my hometown and help out at the mechanic’s garage alongside him. Everyone probably thinks it was some huge, horrible sacrifice on my part, but the truth is, I made that decision without a moment’s hesitation. My dad needed me, and I was not about to abandon him.
Of course, now I�
��m having to sell off the garage. I can’t run it like Daddy used to, and there’s no use in it going to waste. Hopefully someone’ll come along and my Dad’s legacy will live on in that store.
Straight out of high school, no prospects in mind, and suddenly orphaned. It took me some time to pull myself together and find work at the Farm ‘n’ Feed.
Luckily, this is a small town, and we all know each other. If one of us gets into a pinch and needs some money, all we have to do is ask a neighbor. Ask a preacher. Hell, even ask the bank teller. We’re all more than willing to help each other out when trouble strikes.
That’s why I’ve been able to hold onto my family home. It’s been passed down for generations, standing in this same old spot, surrounded by gorgeous rolling farmland far as the eye can see. I work my butt off, but I’ve also had assistance from friends in the community. Pals of my late father who would sooner go hungry than see Mr. Jensen’s daughter in dire straits.
I’m thankful for my job, and I’m grateful to everyone who’s helped me out on the way, but lord do I miss having free time. Being happy. Feeling free.
And right now, sitting in the front seat of a handsome stranger’s car… well, I’m feeling a rush of that old, forgotten freedom. It’s exhilarating. It’s frightening. And most of all, it’s turning me on. I have never been the kind of girl to blush easy, but something about Alexei just makes my heart flutter. He puts the heat in my body and sends shivers down my spine—but the good kind of shivers. The kind I hope never go away.
I can’t help but notice how tiny I feel next to him. My arms, my hands, they seem like the limbs of a doll compared to his thick, muscular arms. His hands gripping the wheel look like they could rip me apart if he so chooses, but I have a feeling he would sooner leap off a cliff than lay a hand on me in anger.
Because for all the power and strength radiating off of him like the glow of the moon, I can’t sense even the barest sliver of malice in him. He’s a dangerous man. That much I could tell from the first second he sat down next to me at that bar. But it’s a danger that thrills me rather than scares me. He’s a burning fire, but instead of shying away from the heat, all I want is for those flames to lick me all over and burn me right up.
I Hired a Hitman Page 3
