That last one was his favorite. He had a way of twisting nearly everything she said or did to make her look unstable. It was his word against hers, and Charles was just so darn likeable. Not like sardonic, unsmiling Irina, who had to work against her own nature just to be polite. Even Babushka had been taken in by him at first. Until she’d seen the bruises.
But by then, Irina had been trapped. He’d slowly manipulated their life together, until she had no job, no money of her own, no family or friends. No escape. Always done in such a way that it would feel like her idea. Weren’t you just saying you wished you could stay home and bake all day? You were just telling me you had nothing in common with your college friends anymore. Didn’t the doctor just tell you that Babushka should have full-time care?
He’d slithered and hissed and nipped, like a snake luring her to its den, until every single aspect of her life had been under his control.
That’s when his fangs had come out.
The first time he’d hit her, she’d been so shocked that she could barely understand what happened. When it had finally sunk in, that Charles had actually punched her, she’d been so furious that she couldn’t see straight. She’d told him she wanted a divorce. She’d even started packing her bags. They’d only been married for six months.
But he’d apologized, tear-soaked promises to never do it again. She’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Charles loved her, she’d told herself. He’d just lost his temper. And she’d provoked him, really. She’d been nagging him all day about stupid little things. She was always getting on his nerves that way. It had only been a matter of time before he snapped, really.
But then it had happened again. And again, and again.
By the time she’d realized it was a pattern of abuse, she was drowning in the shame, the fear, the hopelessness of feeling like she was losing her goddamn mind. Irina had always thought of herself as smarter than the average bear. She could solve the Sunday crossword in minutes, could tell you whodunnit in the first chapter of a mystery novel. But she couldn’t see this coming. Worse yet, she couldn’t see a way out.
She’d gone to the police the first time she tried to escape. Turned out, the officer assigned to her case was Charles’ fraternity brother. Charles had warned him about Irina’s delusions before she’d ever set foot inside the precinct. She’d quickly learned not to trust the police after that.
The sound of a vehicle approaching shook her from her dark thoughts. She sprang to her feet, preparing to flee.
“Relax, Sugar Ray,” Finn said, rubbing his bruised cheek, looking off into the distance. “It’s my brothers.”
She couldn’t see anything yet. She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know that?”
Before he could answer, she saw a red truck pull up behind Finn’s rusty black Ford. The driver’s side door swung open, and a familiar figure got out. “Finn?”
“Sherman! Over here!” Finn called out. He avoided her questioning gaze as he waved his brother over.
“We waited a while, but when you didn’t come back, we came looking for you,” Sherman called as he picked his way through the trees. He stopped short when he saw Irina. He looked back and forth between the two of them, raising his eyebrows.
Finn took a step closer to Irina. “Some asshole ran her off the road. Took off when he saw me.”
“Then what the hell happened to your face?” a new voice asked. Irina looked behind Sherman, doing a double-take when she saw a man emerge from the trees.
The newcomer looked just like Finn. Same white-blonde hair, same tall stature and broad shoulders. And again with those honey-colored eyes. She shivered, looking back and forth between the two brothers. The only noticeable difference was their age; Finn was clearly the older brother.
Finn rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “She didn’t know I wasn’t the dude who ran her down,” he said, pointing to Irina. “She fought me.”
The younger brother looked Irina over, noting her short, thin frame. Then he burst out laughing.
Finn’s face darkened. “Shut up, Colt.”
But Colt continued to laugh. “Oh man, you got beat up by a girl.” He leaned over, slapping his thighs. “This is too good.”
“Colt,” Finn practically growled. “Knock it off.”
Colt gestured to Irina. “I mean, how the hell did she get the drop on you? Looks like a gnat could take her in a fight.”
Finn advanced on his brother. “Have some respect for your elders.”
“Why the hell should I respect someone who let a 90-pound weakling kick the shit out of him?”
“Not me, idiot. She’s older’n all of us, and you-”
“That’s enough!” Sherman’s voice cut through the shouting. He was watching Irina, no doubt noting her dark expression.
She was only thirty-four, for God’s sake! It’s not like she was old enough to be his mother. Couldn’t he just get over it already?
“Irina, are you all right?” Sherman asked.
She took a deep breath. She was being ridiculous. Charles had been the one to run her off the road, and here she was worrying about another man. A man who thought she was a boring, old, and lazy. She needed to focus on the fact that Charles was here, in town. He’d tried to kill her.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to combat the nausea that had surfaced again. “I’m fine.” She turned, moving toward her car. “Thanks for your help, all of you, but I’m fine.”
“Whoa.” Finn was suddenly in her path. She wasn’t able to stop herself in time, and she smacked into him, putting her hands to his chest to steady herself. He looked down at her, his eyes flashing. “Where the hell d’you think you’re going?”
Her nostrils flared. “I’m getting back in my car.”
He snorted. “And you’ll what, drive it up the bank, between the trees?”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you think you can stop me, you are sorely mistaken.” She sidestepped, but he matched her. “Get out of my way.” Her voice was dangerously calm.
His eyes were dark as he looked down at her, a scowl twisting his pretty mouth. “No.”
“What is your problem?”
He raised his eyebrows. “My problem? Some psycho just ran you off the road, and you wanna climb back in your car like nothing happened!”
“Look,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. God, this kid really got her blood up. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me here. But what I do now is none of your damn business.”
His jaw set in a stubborn line. “Like hell it isn’t. Someone just tried to kill you. You were scared enough that you fought me tooth and nail just for trying to get you out of the car.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And don’t think I forgot about that phone call yesterday. You were spooked worse’n a calf in a thunderstorm.”
She balled her hands into fists. “What would you even know about that? You were too busy picking out movies for your girlfriend to pay attention to anything outside yourself!”
He smirked. “She ain’t my girlfriend, sweetheart.”
That stopped her short. “What?”
“Lila is Henry’s girl,” he explained, still with that infuriating smirk on his face.
She shook her head. “Look, I don’t care.” She had no idea who Henry and Lila were, or any of these people, for that matter. She was alone on an island full of strangers. Which is why she needed to get to town so she could take her self-defense class. She had no one else to rely on.
He chuckled. “Sure you don’t, darling.”
She counted to ten in her head, trying to rein in her temper. She was so close to blowing her top. “I am not your darling,” she bit out. “And I will be damned before I let a man tell me what to do again.” She sidestepped him again. “Now let me pass.”
He stepped in front of her again, and this time, she’d had enough. She swung her fisted hand out at his jaw.
He stopped her hand easily, his superior strength and reflexes prevailing. Hi
s expression was thunderous as he looked down at her. “You got a free pass the last time, on account of someone just tried to kill you.” He leaned in, his voice dangerously low. “But you try to take a swing at me again, and you and I will have words, you understand me?”
She hitched a breath. He may have been much younger than her, but he was no kid, not really. She took in the breadth of his shoulders, the tight muscles of his arms and chest. If he wanted to, he could swat her like a fly. But the way he held her fist was gentle, like he was holding himself back. And the look in his eyes was anything but dangerous. Not physically, anyway. He looked…
No, surely she was imagining the desire in his eyes. He wouldn’t be turned on by her. He’d made that very clear, more than once.
“If y’all are done flirting, can we get back to the dock? Matt just called. They’re fixin’ to set off without us.”
“Fine,” Finn said. He stepped back, but kept hold of her hand. “Let’s go.”
She frowned. “I’m taking my car.”
“No.” Finn’s tone was final.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Sherman cut her off. “Actually, I think he’s right. Both your rear tires are blown out.” She glanced over to see him crouched near the Volkswagen’s bumper. “I think it must have happened when you spun off the road.” He stood, wiping his glasses on his shirt. “These aren’t off-road tires. They never stood a chance.”
Finn nodded. “Good, that’s settled then. She comes with us.”
Irina gaped. “What? I’m not going off on some fishing boat with a bunch of people I don’t know-”
“Now, I thought we settled this,” Finn said, lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her along behind him. “We met yesterday at the library.”
She glared. “That’s not good enough.”
“What, you want a formal introduction? Fine. I’m Finn Dorsey. And you are Irina-?”
“Vasiliev,” she bit out through gritted teeth.
“Great. Now that we got that out of the way, let’s get going.”
She huffed out a breath. Clearly she wasn’t going to win this argument, which chafed. She’d sworn to herself that she would never be under a man’s thumb again. But she had to admit, she felt safe with Finn. He drove her crazy, and she still kind of wanted to punch him, but she was certain that he wouldn’t harm her. Besides, she’d be safer with other people. And she’d be out at sea, to boot. She thought, with no small amount of satisfaction, that Charles would have a difficult time following her this time.
But Irina was nothing if not stubborn, and she wasn’t prepared to go without a bit more fight. “I don’t know everyone else,” she said mulishly.
He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Well, you know Sherman Alexander.” He nodded over to his younger doppelgänger. “That’s my brother, Colton.”
A thought occurred to her, and she stopped short, digging in her heels. “I thought Sherman said you two were brothers?”
Behind her, she heard someone laugh. Colt, she thought. His voice was higher than Sherman’s deep bass.
Finn smiled again. “We’re more like a pack, you might say.” He chuckled. “We all work together on the boat, and we live together, too.”
She widened her eyes. “And just how many of you are there?”
Finn’s smile widened into a grin, and she hitched a breath at the beauty of it. “You’ll see.”
Five
Within her first five minutes on the boat, she was introduced to the rest of Finn’s “pack.”
Henry McAllister, a dark-haired man who was even taller than Finn, seemed to be the captain. He had a friendly smile, and she immediately felt at ease with him. His girlfriend, Lila Ellis, was a quiet woman with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She was also, Irina was pleased to see, even shorter than herself. Now she would not feel so much like a gnome amongst the Vikings. Lila held an expensive-looking camera in her hands, snapping photos of the men, the water, the sea birds, the boat, even Irina. It seemed anything she could frame in her viewfinder was fair game.
Matthias Zoeller, or Matt, as he insisted she call him, was the other new face. He was older than Irina by about fifteen years, and he looked like an aging biker, with his gray-streaked ponytail, tattoos, and boots. He seemed friendly enough, though. He’d even lent her a spare hair tie, for which she gave him a grateful smile.
And it didn’t escape her notice that all the men had the same eyes, honey-colored and sharp. She made a mental note to ask about that. Very curious, indeed.
For now, she sat on a bench along the stern of the boat, watching the men as they cast their huge weighted nets. Lila stood near Henry, the incessant clicking of her camera’s shutter lost in the cacophony of the men’s shouts and laughs, the cries of the gulls overhead, and the gentle white noise of the sea around them. The other men were scattered around the boat, and she noticed Finn stood near her. He caught her watching him, and he nodded his head in a wordless invitation. She looked up at him warily, but his smile was open, friendly. It seemed their earlier animosity was forgotten, at least for now.
“You already got your sea legs,” he said with approval, watching her walk toward him.
She nodded. “My grandfather had a boat when I was younger,” she explained. “He used to take us out onto Knik Arm a lot.”
“Where’s that?” Finn asked.
“Anchorage.”
“That where you grew up?”
She nodded. “He’d take my grandmother and me out on the boat almost every day in summer. We’d swim out in the open water. Fish, too. Nothing like this,” she said, sweeping an arm to indicate the commercial vessel they were standing on. “But we’d catch halibut, sometimes cod.” She smiled, lost in happy memories for a moment. “He’d say, ‘Irochka, is lucky day. We catch treska,’” she said, imitating Dedushka’s thick accent and perpetually hoarse voice. “Cod,” she clarified, when Finn furrowed his brow. “He loved it when my grandmother made baked cod with potatoes and cream sauce.”
“Your grandparents were from Russia?”
She nodded. “They were the first generation in their families to come to America.”
Finn smiled. “Irochka? Is that a nickname?” She nodded again. “So can I call you that?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Only if you’re eighty,” she replied.
He laughed, and she leaned in to the warm, husky sound. “Why is that?”
She shook her head. “It’s just the way the language works. Certain nicknames for certain people.” She watched a gull circle overhead. “My grandparents were the only ones who ever called me Irochka.”
“What about your parents?” he asked.
She shivered when a cool breeze blew across the prow. “I don’t remember. They died when I was three. Car accident.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She shrugged. “Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” she said.
“But you do miss your grandparents, huh?”
She nodded, her throat clogging. She’d been incredibly close with both of them. Her grandfather had died when she was twelve. After that, it had just been her and Babushka, until Irina had married Charles. Her grandmother had died three years ago, and the grief still felt fresh sometimes. Especially when it caught her off guard, like now.
Bear Anchor (BBW Shifter Romance) (FisherBears Book 2) Page 3
