Bearing His Sins

by Eve Langlais

  What a shame the fellow wore a bulletproof vest. He also brought attention with his caterwauling. From outside, Cole could hear voices barking in what he now assumed was Russian. More shots were fired, some of them actually making it into the house. Real bullets this time, one close enough to skim past his cheek.

  “Finally, a real challenge.” He dove forward, away from Anja and yet still managing to shield her, his arms spread wide and his teeth bared. Big bear teeth. He let a little of his feral side push at his face, changing his features, turning him partially into a beast. “Grawr!” Translated, it was something along the lines of, “Hello, I’m going to fuck you up.”

  Apparently the Russians understood it. With a scream born of terror, and the acrid stench of one pissing himself, the invaders finally turned tail and ran. That was what they got for sending humans.

  Cowards. But for humans, they did run pretty fast. Yay. He would chase them down. Swipe at them with his—

  “Don’t you dare go after them. Let them leave.” Fingers grabbed hold of his T-shirt, putting even more stress on the bulging seams. He worried less about his shirt than what she thought to do.

  Order me around? Not this man. He yanked away from her, hearing the fabric tearing but not caring as he ran after the fleeing cowards, waiting only until the lights of the house were far behind before kicking off his boots, shoving down his pants, fully shifting shape, and loping on four paws.

  The men ran for the perimeter of the property, and Cole wasn’t the only one chasing them.

  While a crew of invaders might have managed to infiltrate the front of the house, the others at the rear didn’t get that far. They couldn’t. Not with the pack of wolves, a single tiger among them, haranguing the intruders. The furry critters herded and nipped at the men, sending them fleeing from the house, but the pack of wolves didn’t kill them, and they wouldn’t let Cole kill them either, one of the wolves slamming into his side as he stood and prepared to swipe his massive bear claws and end a Russian’s miserable existence.

  The wolves prevented him, pinning his body to the ground so that the human might escape.

  Why?

  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like to play with my toys too, especially if they squeak, but they’re letting the enemy get into their cars. What the fuck?

  Only as the taillights winked out of sight did Cole allow himself to change shape. All the animals swapped fur for skin until only men stood.

  Slapping hands on his hips, Cole stood there with the same nonchalance as the other naked guys.

  “So, nice weather we’ve been having,” he remarked.

  The only thing he was allowed to say before Brody—one of Fabian’s inner crew—remarked, “That’s the bear who’s been spying on us,” and jumped him.

  CHAPTER 6

  Anja purposely didn’t pay attention to the action on the screens. As far as she was concerned, Cole had left. He was on his own.

  On the other hand, her babushka unabashedly watched the drama unfolding on the screen in the kitchen while chewing on a piece of bread slathered with freshly churned butter. “Your man, he’s a bear.”

  “He’s not my man.” Funny how she didn’t bother to refute the bear part. She wasn’t blind. She’d seen him change shape. “Are you sure about his beast side? I thought for sure with that hard head of his he was a bull.” He certainly had the traits. Headstrong and single-minded about barreling after things.

  “Most definitely a bear. A big one too. He will make good babies.”

  “Not with me he won’t.”

  “Good girl holding him back. No babies until he meets the bride price.”

  “Which will be never.”

  “Stubborn lapushka. In these matters, you should trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I trust you to do anything to have me wedded and impregnated so you can have a great-grandchild to corrupt.”

  “And what is the problem with that plan?”

  Anja ignored the innocent blink. “Problem? How about the fact he’s a bear?”

  “He is strong. Worthy of my lapushka. In the old country, a woman chosen by the oboroten is considered lucky.”

  “He is so strong he was taken prisoner.” Okay, so she’d peeked and seen him getting jumped by her neighbor and his buddies. She’d noted with way too much interest Cole’s limp and nude body—his big, impressively muscled naked body. It did tempt her to go fetch him back—the things I could do to that body—but she restrained herself. He’d gotten caught. Not her problem.

  “Yes, they took him, and you will save him.”

  “Oh, no, I won’t.” Anja plopped on a stool and propped her chin in her hand, thinking about all the damage done during this attack. She found herself at a loss as to how to begin to repair the bombed-out front door. Exactly how to explain that to the handyman. So our house was attacked by a Russian hit squad.

  As it was, they were lucky they lived in a remote area, or else they’d have to contend with unwanted interest from the police. Again. But Babushka wasn’t lying when she boasted she knew how to hide evidence.

  “You have a duty to go after your beau,” her grandmother insisted.

  “He is not my beau, and I am not helping him. I told him not to go after Garoux and his cronies. He chose to not listen, so now he can take care of himself.”

  “I see your plan now, my lapushka. Very smart. I see you were listening all the times I spoke. It is important to set the tone early in a relationship. Next time perhaps your bear won’t be so quick to disobey.”

  “There won’t be a next time because we are not getting together.”

  “Why not? Why must you be so picky?”

  “I am not picky. And the why is because I don’t even know the guy. What I do know is kind of sketchy. I mean he’s claiming he’s a killer for hire. Surely you don’t want me dating an assassin?”

  “No one would ever screw your family over.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And Daddy could go to jail for being a murderer and only see his family for an hour on weekends.”

  “See! You do think of him in terms of husband material. The father of your children.” Said with utter triumph.

  “You are a sick woman, babulya.” Her term of endearment for the woman who drove her mad. And yet Anja loved the old lady with all her heart. Her grandmother only ever wanted the best for her. Thing was, her idea of the best didn’t always mesh with Anja’s. Except, in this instance, they both liked what they saw.

  Anja could claim disinterest all she wanted, and yet she couldn’t help but watch the screen long after the shape-shifters next door disappeared from sight.

  Silence fell, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator. A faint patina of dust covered the surfaces her grandmother had yet to drag a rag across. The attackers had been bold in their latest attack. Too bold.

  The rat-tat-tat of Anja’s nails on the counter broke the silence. “The attackers carried real guns this time, not just Tasers and tranquilizers.”

  “Most mercenaries do, lapushka. Otherwise, they are just pretenders in uniform.”

  “I don’t think they were trying to just kidnap me this time.” She eyed her grandmother and didn’t see any surprise in her expression.

  “Do not be hasty. They’ve only ever tried to abduct you before. I think the addition of your beau created a situation.”

  “I created the situation.” She jabbed a thumb into her chest. “Me. Because I exist. How much longer should I put up with this? I don’t want to live in a fortress the rest of my life. Now that they’ve found us, they’re never going to stop.”

  “We’ll move.”

  A frown pulled Anja’s brows. “That’s a coward’s answer. Running won’t solve anything.”

  “It worked for over twenty years.”

  “And now it’s not. Sergei is never going to stop. None of them will. Not until a man claims me. I’m a prize to them. A prize to anyone who wants to try.” Anja sighed. “I think it’s time,” she said softly t
o her grandmother.

  Slam. The small fist hit the countertop. “No. It will never be the time. Ever. I told you before there is nothing for you over there. Nothing for either of us. Nothing but trouble.”

  “A trouble that won’t stop it unless I do something.” Her turn to slap the counter. “I’m done hiding. And done having to defend myself. I think it’s time I let my fiancé”—and, yes, her lip curled at the word—“know that the wedding is off. Permanently. And the best way to do that is in person.” With a gun. And a bullet to his head. A knife to his heart would work too. Anja would figure out the details once she got there and could spew her annoyance at the person causing her such grief. “Come with me. Together we shall show them the error of their ways.”

  “You want us to return to the old country.” Her grandmother stilled, her fingers kneading the fluttery fringe of her shawl. “We have enemies in Russia.”

  “Yes. I’ve met some of them.”

  “They will try to kill us.”

  “They can try. I, for one, don’t intend to die. And if you intend to, then know I am going to sell this farm, buy a condo on the beach, and eat processed food every single meal.”

  “Ungrateful child.”

  “I love you too.”

  Her babushka smiled. “What a fine woman you’ve become. I’ll pack our bags.”

  “I can pack my own.”

  “Not very well you don’t. Besides, you don’t have time because you will be busy fetching the bear. We need him.”

  Need him? It sounded so right, which meant Anja fought against it and, considering it was an argument against her grandmother, meant she really didn’t stand a chance from the outset. In the end, Anja didn’t pack her own things because she scooted down the road in her truck, taking the proper way around to Fabian’s house. She parked her rusted truck right behind a sweet Lamborghini. Before she could change her mind, she’d slammed out of her vehicle and stood on the stoop, knocking at the door.

  The last echo had barely faded when it swung open. The stately countenance of a man dressed in dark, pressed slacks, a white linen shirt, and a vest stitched with gray perused her. “Might I help you?”

  “I need to speak to your master.”

  “My lord is abed at this hour. Perhaps if the lady would make an appointment for another time.”

  “Your lord is not in bed because I just saw him buck-ass naked kidnapping a man, also naked, I might add, from my property. So if you don’t want me to post the video, you will let me in and inform him that I want my guest back.”

  “This isn’t how things are done,” grumbled the manservant, spinning on a heel and tramping up the hall. “There is a protocol to follow. A certain decorum to be expected.”

  “Decorum is overrated, and complacency is the enemy.” The excuse her grandmother used when she’d randomly toss knives or other sharp objects at Anja without notice.

  Grasping a pair of ornate copper-hued knobs, the butler swung open carved wooden double doors while announcing, “The Russian farm girl from next door is here to see you, milord. She claims you have a guest of hers. She came alone.” Spoken with a sly glance in her direction.

  “Don’t you take that tone with me, mister. Or do you seriously want to piss off my babushka? She’s made teachers disappear for less than that.”

  With a pat on his ass, since Anja didn’t have money for a tip, she walked in and discovered men in various state of undress. She couldn’t help but clap her hands. “Merry Christmas to me.”

  “What do you want?” asked the silver-templed owner of the house. Fabian Garoux wore loose track pants and nothing else. Of the other fellows in the room, one wore a shirt. That man wasn’t Cole.

  Cole currently sat tied to a chair. Zip ties, the kind cops used on criminals, bound his wrists to the thick slats on the back. He didn’t appear at all perturbed by the situation. He even managed a grin and a wink at her. “Miss me?”

  She pointed at Cole. “You have something of mine.”

  “Are you claiming him?” The very idea seemed to surprise Fabian and the other two.

  “She is not claiming me. That would be emasculating,” growled Cole. “And I assure you I have my balls. As well as my pride. Neither needs rescuing.”

  “Yet here I am.” She couldn’t help but smirk at him. “About to rescue you. Ooh, does that mean the big bad killer is going to owe me?”

  “How about the big bad killer tans your ass?”

  “How about you both shut the hell up and explain what’s going on?” Fabian snapped.

  “I am not explaining shit to you.” She eyed the supposed criminal lord with disdain. “And, I will add, I expected bigger.”

  “Hey, hold on a second, are you talking about his dick? Because I might have a problem with that. If you’re mine, that is. Which you will be if I don’t kill you. I’m still working on that decision. And you coming to rescue me is definitely not weighing in your favor.”

  She shot Cole a glare. “I am not here because I want to be. My grandmother wants to hire you.”

  “Hire him? Didn’t he just show up at your property to kill you?” Fabian asked.

  “No, I was supposed to kill you, months ago, as a matter of fact,” Cole interjected. “But then the guy offering the money pulled the job, and there was no real profit in it. And it bothered me to leave it undone, so I thought, what the hell, maybe I’ll kill you just for fun. At least that was the plan until she interrupted me.”

  “I interrupted you because you were in my tree. Which reminds me, you owe me a discount on your services for the use of our property.”

  “How about before we decide a price, you tell me who you want to kill?”

  “My fiancé. Sergei.”

  “I’ll do it for free.”

  “Free?” Fabian wasn’t the only one who snorted.

  Anja shook her head. “Oh, no. We will decide on a price. A price contingent on you actually killing him. However, if I should happen to get to him first, you get nothing.”

  “I will kill him. Think of it as a bridal gift.”

  She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Are you back to that again? We are not getting married. I’d rather you killed me.”

  “I wish I could,” he mumbled darkly.

  “Don’t fucking tell me…” Fabian looked from Cole to her and then back again before laughing. “I see how it is, and nothing I can do will torture you as much as living with her and the crazy grandmother.”

  Anja felt compelled to say, “She’s not crazy according to the psychiatrists.”

  “And how many of them still work in this state?”

  “None.” She smiled. Babushka left a strong impression. “If you are done with the hairy bear, then I am leaving with him.”

  “I am not hairy.”

  She arched a brow.

  “Well, my back isn’t,” he added with a shrug.

  She shook her head. “I’ll bet you clog a lot of drains.”

  “And that is more than I want to think of. Take him. Go.” Fabian waved a hand with the most girly manicured nails. Not a spot of dirt under them. “But when you finish your business and come back to your farm, have him come talk to me about work.”

  “I don’t work for dogs.”

  “And he’ll be too busy farming. The fields need a last till before the frost.” If Cole would insist on his foolishness, then she would play along.

  “Farming?” Cole repeated the word a few times as they left the house and headed for the truck. The pickup sat where she’d left it, and she could see him eyeing it askance.

  “I think we should go grab my car and ditch this rolling hunk of pollution.”

  “What do you drive?” she asked as she swung into the driver’s seat.

  “A Mercedes, fully loaded with a V-8 three-liter turbocharged engine.”

  “Speed brings attention, as do pretty cars. It won’t help us go where we need.”

  “And just where do you plan to take me?”

  L
ucky for him she actually had a plan. “We need to make it to Russia, which means flying, but the next few flights are booked solid. So, there’s a storm drain a mile outside of the airport. It’s a tight fit, but will take us right out onto the tarmac. There aren’t many flights at this hour, but lucky for us, there is one that is going overnight to Moscow. According to my grandmother”—who stored nuggets of information like a squirrel with nuts—“the baggage guy always goes for a smoke before he does his final check and lockdown.”

  “You want me to ride in the cargo bay like a commoner?”

  “It’s a good plan.”

  “It’s an awful plan.”

  Of course he’d think it was, because he didn’t come up with it. However, his disdain went further than that. Cole wasn’t just an assassin. He was a snob who liked to travel in style. This pairing of them to collaborate wouldn’t work.

  She slammed the truck to a stop and leaned across him, tugging at the door handle. “Get out. Your car is one mile south of here.”

  “Drive us there.”

  “You can walk there.”

  “Okay. But you might not like it.” He slid out of the passenger seat and stood at the side of the truck. “Let’s go.”

  “There is no let’s. This is where we part ways.”

  “No, this is where I remind you I wear the pants in this relationship.”

  It was of little satisfaction to her a few minutes later, hanging down over his shoulder staring at his bare ass, that she showed him he wasn’t, in fact, wearing pants, not once she demolished his borrowed pair in her fit of rage as he manhandled her. A manhandling that was hot, sweaty, and left her all atingle.

  In the end, his brute strength won—he treated her like a girl—and despite the fact that he was bare assed, he upended her over his shoulder and marched off down the road, carrying her as if a sack of potatoes. Except, most people didn’t fondle their potatoes.

  “You are taking liberties,” she noted as his hand brushed over the seam between her legs, the denim she wore not stopping the heat. A shiver she couldn’t hide coursed through her frame. “My babushka wouldn’t approve.”