by Lexi Blake
A well of emotion caught him squarely in the chest because he knew the truth about Stella Benoit. “She wasn’t too young. She stayed. She didn’t lie to you or falter. She was my mother in every way that counted.”
God, she had been. She’d been the one to make sure he had the things he needed. A thousand memories flashed through his mind.
Stella baking him birthday cakes.
Thanksgivings at the diner.
Shopping trips to buy him jeans, and later, she’d learned how to shop for art supplies.
Every year he’d watched as she’d matured into a woman the town depended on. A woman he depended on. He still did.
“She wasn’t,” his father repeated Stef’s words. Tears lit his eyes. “She wasn’t Jackie, and she wasn’t too young. She knew her heart. She was the other half of my soul, and I threw her away. Even though I walked away from her and broke her heart, she stayed and watched after my son.”
“Jennifer isn’t Stella.” The words were stupid and stubborn. He knew it, but they came anyway. Jennifer was an artist. Artists were different. Artists had needs. She was gifted.
“No, I’m not.”
He turned, and Jennifer stood in the doorway, eyes red rimmed and glazed with pain.
“Jennifer.” How much had she heard? It was obvious she’d heard something. Her spine was straight, and there was a bag at her feet. What was going on?
She held a hand out. “Don’t. I have one question and one question only for you. How were you going to make me go?”
His stomach sank, but he attempted to keep a placid demeanor. This might be a horrible scene, but if he could remain calm, they had a better chance at getting out of it without saying something neither could take back. “I take it the Sorbonne called?”
Her green eyes had lost their sparkle. “Yes. They needed some information. Apparently no one told them it was a secret.”
His heart fluttered as he realized how hard she was taking this. The timing was perfectly awful on all counts. He’d certainly not meant for her to find out about it after the way she’d given herself to him the night before. He’d meant to ease her into it. And now, after making love with her and talking to his father, he wasn’t even sure if he was making the right decision. For the first time in a long time, he was utterly uncertain which path to take.
“I made the arrangements yesterday,” he explained in an even tone that belied the way his heart clawed at his chest. “I would think you would be thrilled, love. Learning at the Sorbonne is every artist’s dream.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, then, Stef. It’s a nice gesture. I have to turn you down.” She reached down and picked up the suitcase at her feet. “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff once I find a place to stay. If you need me, I’ll be at Callie’s for a couple of weeks.”
He was on his feet in a second. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He’d expected fire and fury from her. The deep, abiding sadness was unexpected. “It means I finally get it. You don’t want me. You don’t have to spend a ton of money to send me halfway across the world. I understand. I won’t be some puppy nipping at your heels anymore. But this is my home, and I expect you to be civil when you see me. I’ll be nice, too. In a while, it’ll all be a distant thing. We’ll be neighbors who once had a fling.”
His fists clenched, and he felt his face go red. “Neighbors? I’m not your fucking neighbor, Jennifer. I’m your lover, and I’m doing what’s best for you. I’m trying to make your dreams come true.”
“Your dreams,” she said wearily, his anger not moving her a bit. “I know you think I’m some amazing artist, but I want to paint because I love it, not because some critic says I’m the next Van Gogh. Van Gogh’s life sucked. If I get to choose a happy, mundane life or artistic immortality, then bring on the babies and the laundry and the date nights. I know you think this is about me, but it’s not.”
He stalked toward her. His hands itched to hold her and haul her back to the guesthouse. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not about her? What the fuck was she thinking? His whole life had been about her since the day she walked into Bliss. “I beg to differ, love. I called in favors, and had my father call in favors, to get you into the program.”
“Stefan.” His father’s tone held a distinct note of warning. “Be careful what you say.”
Stef ignored him. He didn’t matter at that moment. Only the fact that she was defying him mattered. He might have been able to handle it if she’d fought, but the guilt she was pushing at him was a bit much. He’d been the one to get her out of jail. Now he was moving heaven and earth to make sure she could see the world. He’d called yesterday about an apartment for her in Paris with a view of the Seine and every luxury available. And she called him selfish? “Me? I’m thinking of me? Was I thinking of myself when I got you out of jail?”
“I appreciate that, Stefan.”
He hated the way she’d said his name. She never used Stefan, always Stef in that casual, affectionate manner of hers. “I’m sure you do, love.”
“But sending me to Paris is entirely about you.”
“You’re going to have to give me a bit of explanation. I think your logic is faulty.” He wanted her to shout. If she would just shout, he could let out his pent-up emotion. She just stood there looking at him with what he was beginning to believe might be pity.
“I can’t quite figure it out, to tell you the truth. I only know it isn’t your great and deep love for me that has you shipping me halfway around the world. It’s about fear, or perhaps it’s a test. Maybe both. You think that if I go off on some grand adventure I’ll come back and I’ll suddenly be mature enough for you to consider settling down with. But you’re wrong. I think you’ll just come up with something else. Maybe you’ll think I need more time to be successful without you. Maybe you’ll decide I’m not ready for kids. All I know is if I do this, you’ll be the one making the decisions. You’ll be the one deciding what my dreams are and how I’ll achieve them.”
“Ah, we’re back to the King Stefan argument again. Yes, I’m horrible. I pull everyone’s strings. Poor Jennifer. I’ve been terrible to you.”
She sighed, her body sagging. “Not at all. You just don’t love me.”
“I told you I loved you. I said it last night.”
“Fine. I’ll rephrase. You don’t love me enough.”
How could he make her understand? “I love you enough to let you go.”
“But not enough to keep me. Not enough to let me make up my own mind. I would have been like Stella, you know. I would have been here. I wouldn’t have walked out. I can’t promise that I won’t want more of a career someday. I can’t promise that I’ll never want to spend time outside of Bliss. But there’s a difference between your mother and me. I would ask you to build that career with me. I would ask you to see the world with me because none of it would matter if you weren’t there by my side. She didn’t leave because she needed more than you could give her. She left because there was something missing inside her, something she never had. She didn’t love you. She didn’t love your father. The fault lay in her, not either one of you. But I would have loved you. So much. I know I’m probably proving your point by walking out now, but I can’t spend the rest of my life proving myself to you. I can’t wait around for you to decide I won’t ever leave, because I don’t think you’re ever going to believe it. I’ll always be younger than you, Stefan. I’ll always be an artist. And you’ll always be waiting for me to leave.”
Silence hung in the air, a palpable weight keeping them apart. He stared at her across the space between them and couldn’t seem to move.
“Jen?” Callie’s voice echoed as she walked through the door. There was a solemn quality to Callie’s tone that let him know she’d been informed why Jennifer was leaving.
“I’m coming.” She turned and began walking. “Good-bye, Stefan.”
She didn’t look back.
“Go after her.” His father was standing,
staring at the door before shifting his focus to Stef.
Stef took a step back, and then another, until he found his seat. He had to force the air into his lungs as the truth crept over him. She was right and had been all along. He’d been testing her and calling it a selfless act. He’d said he wanted to wait until she was ready, but he’d been doing the opposite. He’d been watching and waiting and cocooning her in protection until he was ready.
She wasn’t the one who wasn’t mature enough for commitment.
He turned to his father. “Why did you come back?”
His father pointed to the door. “Damn it, Stefan. This is serious. That girl is leaving you.”
“Why did you come back?” He shouted the question, all pretense at civility gone.
Sebastian stepped back, startled. “I came back because I couldn’t waste another moment. I came back because I love you, son.”
“Is that the only reason?”
His face a chalky white, Sebastian took his seat again. “No. I came back for her. She doesn’t seem interested anymore. I can’t blame her, but I’m going to try. I came back because I can’t live another moment knowing I haven’t done everything to make it up to her.”
And there it was. The truth. Fear had cost his father decades. It had been fear, not abandonment that had ruined his father’s life. Stef sat back as regret swirled through him.
“It doesn’t have to be that way for you,” his father urged.
Maybe. But maybe he’d ruined any chance he had. Would she believe him if he ran after her? The question no longer occurred to him whether or not he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. A new question had arisen.
Did he even deserve her?
* * * *
Alexei yawned and managed to sit up, his muscles pulling and aching slightly from the too-cramped cot. It had not been made to accommodate a man of his size. The station house was dim, the blinds still closed. He stretched and wondered what time it was. He’d managed to get to sleep. He’d been in worse places than the Bliss County Jail. He’d even found the deputy’s light snoring somewhat comforting. It was a reminder that he wasn’t alone. For the first time in a long time, his dreams hadn’t been about blood and loss.
“Don’t worry about it, Sheriff. You do what you need to do. I knew I’d be working a lot during the festival.” Logan spoke quietly into the phone as though trying not to disturb his prisoner. “I’m fine. Naw, I might have snuck a nap in. I can handle things this morning. Give me the weekend off next week and we’ll call it even. Thanks.”
Logan put the phone down and glanced his way. “Oh, hey. Sorry if I woke you.”
“Not at all. I sleep very good.” He wasn’t about to return the deputy’s kindness with complaints. Alexei felt his stomach rumble.
Logan walked to the front window and twisted the cord that opened the blinds. Sunlight streamed into the room. The street outside was covered in a blanket of snow. A few people walked past the window, long, colorful boards in their hands. “Stella should be here any minute with your breakfast.”
If breakfast was as good as his dinner had been, he wasn’t sure why there weren’t more people in jail. He felt unaccountably cheerful. It made no sense. He was sitting in a small jail, waiting to be taken to a larger jail where he would most likely be interrogated and potentially deported to a place where everyone would want him dead. Yet, he felt a sense of peace he’d not felt in forever. He was going to do the right thing. He was going to bring down Pushkin, but in the proper way, in the way that would have made his family proud.
“Is the FBI still coming?” He suddenly wanted to get started. He was eager to begin this new life he’d found.
“Yes. They’re driving in, though. The airports in Colorado Springs and Denver closed. There’s an ice storm. We’re good here, but they’re going to have to fly into Albuquerque and drive up from there. I hope they know how to drive in the mountains. I doubt they’re going to get here until tonight.”
Patience. He would have to be patient. “It is good. Is sheriff indisposable?”
Logan’s face went slack, his jaw open. “Huh?”
He would really have to work on his English. He searched for the words. “He is working on other things?”
“Oh, yes. He’s helping out with the setup for the festival this morning. The finals of the snowboarding competition take place on the mountain today. We’re a real small town. Everyone has to help. This festival is our biggest event of the year.”
The door flew open, and a small, well-wrapped person stumbled inside. At first, all Alexei could see was a bright blue coat and a plastic bag. Logan rushed to the door and managed to catch the visitor before she went tumbling.
“Hey!” a soft voice fluttered as the woman in the coat was helped to balance by the deputy. “Sorry, Logan. I slipped on the ice. It’s getting bad out there. I hope it doesn’t hurt attendance. Stella sent me with your order.”
“Holly Lang! Everyone’s been looking for you. Damn girl, where have you been?” Logan took the bag from her hands, frowning at her.
Holly. He wished the floor would open up underneath him and swallow him whole. Sweet, sexy Holly was here, and he was behind bars. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted her to see him. Oh, he knew there was no way he could have any sort of a relationship with her, but she’d flirted with him and shown him her kind nature.
She shrugged out of her coat and stomped her boots on the mat in front of the door to get the snow off them. Her pretty green eyes were on Logan as she replied. “My evil ex managed to forget to tell me our son was going on a retreat with his high school band. Jerk. I only get to see him every other week. He knows how far I have to drive, but does he call?” Her face was tight for a moment, but she smiled, obviously throwing off her anger. “But I got to talk to him on the phone. He’s doing so well. He made the honor roll.”
“That’s great. While you were gone, two people died and there was a shooting and a stolen painting, and guess who has the key to the mystery?”
Holly had gone still. “Died?”
Logan nodded. “Yep, murders. It’s been a regular CSI episode around here, except without the bad jokes. Every time I tried to make one or dramatically take off my sunglasses, Sheriff slapped me upside the head.”
“I’m about to do the same thing, Logan. Who got killed? Dear god, why didn’t someone tell me? Stella was crying when I got in today.” Holly looked like she was about to cry, too. It ate at him that he’d had a hand in that.
Logan placed his hands on her shoulders. “It was a tourist. Everyone in town is fine. And Stella’s been crying a lot lately. My moms think she’s going through the change. I don’t know what that means. I try to avoid all talk about feminine parts with my moms.”
“So two tourists died?”
“One tourist, and some Russian dude who was trying to kill Jen and Callie.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my god! I leave for twenty-four hours and this is what happens? I think I met the Russian guy. He seemed so nice.”
“It was not me,” Alexei said. “It was partner, Ivan. He was not so nice.”
Holly turned, noticing him for the first time.
“Hello.” Her voice sounded awfully small now that she realized she wasn’t alone with Logan.
“Hello.”
“I remember you from the diner the other day. You took the Farley twins out. They couldn’t stop talking about how nice you were.” She smiled at him, her face lighting up. “What did you do? Jaywalking? Nate can come up with a lot of reasons to toss a tourist in the clink, but usually it’s because he’s in a foul mood. I’m afraid our sheriff is a bit of a character. He only narrowly avoided losing to a rubber duck in the last election. What was your name again?”
Logan gestured to the cell Alexei stood in. “That’s Alex Something Russian. He’s a member of the Russian mob, and he’s looking for a painting his boss had Jen’s old boss steal for him.”
“Really? So he’s an actual criminal?�
�� Holly looked between the deputy and Alexei as though trying to discern if someone was joking.
“Yeah, but it seems he’s reformed. He took out the other fellow and saved Callie and Jen and Callie’s baby.”
Holly’s startled shout echoed though the small building. “Callie’s pregnant? Did I miss a newsletter? Damn it. I hate not having a phone. I had to use the Evil Ex’s to talk to my boy. The minute I can afford it, I’m getting a cell phone.”
Alexei’s attention shifted. There was a small group of men walking across the street. He couldn’t see them clearly yet, but they stood out. While everyone else was casual, there was a certain formality about these men that had him staring. They wore black coats in a sea of colorful, fun parkas.
Logan continued to talk to Holly, poking at her like an annoying younger brother. “Yes, that would have been helpful since you’re the one who knows who has the painting everyone is looking for.”
A cold chill went through Alexei’s body. Was that? Dear god, that looked like Luka. Luka was one of Pushkin’s top men.
“I do?” Holly asked.
Luka turned and pointed at the same building that housed Alexei. Bile bit at the back of his throat. The phone. His phone had gone off all night. It hadn’t bothered Logan, but the trill had awoken Alexei several times. He’d thought it might be his cousin. Now he knew who had been so determined.
Logan gestured toward the cell. “This guy came to town looking for a stolen painting. Apparently Jen’s boss in Dallas hid it. It’s behind one of the paintings Jen gave you to sell. The one for Rachel. You sold it to someone, but we can’t read the receipt.”
Now Alexei could see that Luka had two other men with him, Oleg, Luka’s brother, and Pushkin himself. His hands tightened around the bars. Pushkin had come after the painting. Alexei knew Ivan had called in and informed Luka where they were going, but he’d never imagined that Dimitri Pushkin would come himself.
“Oh, well, that was—”
“Is that my food?” Alexei interrupted them with a short bark. He had seconds to decide what to do. A plan flashed through his brain. It was probably a terrible plan, but it was all he could come up with. The three men were moving with purpose toward the office. There was no time. If they walked in, they would simply kill anyone in their way. At least this way they had a chance.
