Hers to Tame

by Rhenna Morgan

  She swallowed hard. “Same age as me.”

  “Yes. Too young to die and underserving of what happened. He was not like Sam or the other men. He worked on computers. Did research and specialized cyber activity.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in that pragmatic cut-to-the-chase way she had about her. “You mean he was a hacker.”

  The fact that she could draw even the faintest smile from him in such a moment was testament to how much he appreciated her candor and her clever mind. “Yes. Not as experienced as myself or other people I know, but insatiably curious and eager to learn.” He paused a moment, weighed what he should and shouldn’t share for her protection. “He helped me in tracking information about Alfonsi. When we found Kevin, we also found that his computer had been completely wiped—a failsafe he had in place should someone ever try to access the data on it without the right credentials. That tells me whoever this was wanted information.”

  “But they didn’t get in?”

  “No.”

  “But why kill him to get to his computer? Why not just break in and try to access it when he wasn’t there?”

  “Kevin had security at his home. Cameras as well. Whoever got to him would have had to be exceptionally skilled with extensive resources to get past them.”

  “And the recordings?”

  “Weren’t captured. We found him stabbed in his bed with no sign of struggle.”

  “So, whoever it was, Kevin was expecting them.”

  “Exactly.”

  She thought on that for a moment. “Just because they tried to access his computer doesn’t mean his death has anything to do with you or Sergei. Or Alfonsi for that matter. I mean, did he only work for you? If he did any side work for other people, they could have been looking for information for someone else. Or it could have been another client who didn’t want Kevin sharing embarrassing information he’d learned.”

  “Except that the killer left a printed web article you wrote about Alfonsi with a candid picture of Sergei at the top.”

  Cold reality settled behind her gaze. “One of mine?”

  He nodded, hating what he had to share next. “I thought it only coincidence before, but with the email you received this morning, I cannot be sure. What I do know is, it’s a message. They know who brought Alfonsi down, and they want someone to pay.”

  For long moments, she held his stare, a vulnerability etched on her face that left him feeling inadequate and powerless. “Did you call the police?”

  It was the last question he’d expected. And yet, it highlighted the most significant hurdle they’d face together. The one that had been the downfall for his mother and father. “Nyet. This is family business and will be dealt with as such.”

  Her stare shot to the carpet. To her clenched hands in her lap. To the suitcases beside her on the bed. A frantic visual leapfrog that no doubt mimicked the internal debate going on inside her head.

  With a frustrated huff, she stood and paced to the window. “So, how am I supposed to navigate all of this at work? With the men following me around, I mean.”

  The knot in his gut unwound, and his lungs surged on the first decent breath he’d taken since he’d pulled away from the curb in front of her house. Logistics he could deal with. Emotions and blending his unconventional life with a woman who’d been raised ultra-conventional were an entirely different proposition. “The men are accustomed to maintaining a low or shadow profile when necessary. They will remain at a distance when you’re with people from work unless you’re approached by someone suspicious.”

  Staring at the beautifully landscaped backyard and pool below, she seemed to consider what he’d shared, her profile pinched with thought as though inwardly imagining what such a scenario would look like. She spun a moment later, a fresh level of panic in her voice. “What about Aunt Frieda? And my family? If whoever this is has been listening, they’d know about them, too. Do you think whoever it is would do something to hurt them?”

  “Frieda is a possibility. I can assign men to watch over her if you like. Or you can invite her to join you here. She can have the guest room and use the time to get familiar with the rest of us. The rest of your family is in Houston, yes?”

  She padded closer to the bed. “Houston Heights, technically, but yes.”

  “Then we will take measures to ensure their safety as well.”

  “Without them knowing, right?”

  He nodded. “If that is what you want, yes. Though, I suspect the person, or people, we’re looking for don’t have sufficient reach to take action in Houston. If they did, their response would have been much timelier and more direct.” Namely, with a pointed assault at Sergei, Roman, or Kir himself, but he wasn’t going to share such a detail at this juncture. “And what would you like to do about your aunt?”

  Her gaze slid sideways and she worried her lower lip. As was her decisive nature, her focus sharpened quickly on Kir. “I’d feel better if she was here.”

  “Then we’ll arrange it.”

  Downstairs, the front door kachunked opened. Footsteps and Evette’s bright laughter rolled in right behind it. “Kir? Cassie?”

  “The men said they are here,” Olga grumbled, every word thick with her unapologetic Russian accent.

  The crisp rattle of paper grocery bags being juggled then unloaded onto the kitchen counter sounded, then Emerson added, “Uncle Kir’s probably upstairs bein’ all lovey-dovey like he was last night.”

  “Uncle Kir can hear you.” Kir stood and lowered his voice for Cassie alone. “Do you want company? Or would you rather have time alone?”

  “We brought some groceries,” Evette said from the kitchen below. “None of us knew what kind of comfort food you’d want, so we got everything from fruit to vodka.”

  “The vodka was Olga’s idea,” Emerson added helpfully.

  “Who’s Olga?” Cassie nearly whispered.

  “Sergei’s cook,” Kir said equally quiet. “Though, she would be an efficient bodyguard as well should anyone threaten one of her chicks. Now—” he moved in close and hugged her to him “—what would you prefer?”

  Between the opening and closing of the refrigerator door, Evette chuckled and said, “I’m startin’ to think you’re right on the lovey-dovey, kid. Maybe we should unload and come back in a bit.”

  Cassie rested her forehead on Kir’s chest, but her torso shook on silent laughter. “No, no lovey-dovey,” she called out to the trio below. “Just unpacking and mentally readjusting to a bizarre morning.”

  “You want some help?” Evette said. “Unpacking’s kind of a no-brainer, and I’ve got ice cream to help with everything else.”

  One corner of Cassie’s mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “They sound like my aunt.”

  “Well, then she’ll fit in here with you just fine.” He kissed her forehead, stepped away long enough to retrieve her laptop and phone, then urged her toward the hallway. “Come. See what they’ve brought you. Enjoy their company for a little while, and I’ll handle the rest.”

  “What about Frieda?”

  “Call her from Evette’s phone. It’s secured and will give the two of you a way to communicate until I can clean or replace yours. Tell her whatever you feel she needs to know, and let her know a man will be at her address within a half hour.”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and Evette said, “Who’s Frieda?”

  “Cassie’s aunt,” Kir answered. “We’re moving her here as well just to be safe.”

  “Sweet!” Evette said. “Maybe we should call Dorothy, too. The women can all camp over here and drown in comfort food while the men go beat on their chests.”

  Emerson spun from putting a monstrous box of Lucky Charms in the cupboard. “Where am I gonna go?”

  Evette cocked an eyebrow. “You can be the guys’ ambassador with free travel back and forth, but you have to
promise not to share any girl secrets.”

  He shrugged and dug into the grocery bag on the floor beside him for whatever else was inside. “I can work with that.”

  Giggling like she truly was hosting a girls’ sleepover instead of dealing with the fallout from a personal threat, Evette wrapped Cassie up at the waist with one arm and shooed Kir toward the door. “Go. Sergei and Roman are in Sergei’s office waiting for you. Do whatever it is you badasses do, and we’ll hold the fort down here.”

  From the fatigued, yet bewildered look on Cassie’s face, the mix of slapstick hilarity and female companionship was probably just what she needed to get through the hours ahead. Leaving her, though, proved more difficult than he’d expected. “If you need me, they all have my number.”

  He forced one foot in front of the other—out the front door and along the meandering flagstone path through the beautiful backyard to the main house, making calls to his men with instructions to pick up Cassie’s aunt. He nodded to the man stationed closest to the back door and strode through the quiet kitchen. Past the formal living area with its adjacent living room, and up the stairs to Sergei’s office. Unlike the carriage house’s more updated look, the landmark estate had been primarily restored with a nod to its heritage, complete with crystal chandeliers, custom rugs and silk drapes covering nine-foot windows. A mix of French Creole flair from days gone by offset by the most enviable modern conveniences.

  He found Roman comfortably seated in front of Sergei’s desk, his phone to one ear and his scowl aimed at Kir as he came through the door. “Start at 7:30 and watch until 10:30. All three camera angles available in the bar.”

  Sergei sat with one ankle perched across his knee, his elbows resting on the arms of his thick leather chair, and his fingers steepled in front of his chest.

  Kir stalked toward the seat next to Roman. “Who’s he talking to?” he said to Sergei.

  “The manager on duty last night at André’s,” he answered low enough so as not to disrupt Roman’s conversation. “We’ve pulled security tapes.”

  “I don’t care how many hours it takes.” Where Roman’s voice had been commanding before, now it was all hard edge and cold warning. “You will sit with the man I’ve provided to help you, and you will capture pictures of any individuals who appear to be using their phone.”

  He waited for an agreement, then added, “Good. And this does not leave your office. Is that clear?”

  Another pause. When he’d heard what he wanted, he ended the call and refocused on Kir. “It will take some time, but we should have photos for Cassie to review soon.”

  “And the email?” Kir asked.

  “I called Knox,” Sergei said. “Your skills are superior, but leveraging his industry connections will get us information more quickly than any trace might provide.”

  It was a valid point, and if it meant ensuring Cassie’s safety and finding Kevin’s killer, he was more than willing to swallow his pride and let someone else drive. He nodded and added his own plans. “I’ve sent Sam, Patrick and Abel to Cassie’s house. They’ll sweep for bugs and signs of forced entry.”

  Sergei inclined his head toward the devices in his lap. “And those?”

  “Powered off. I’ll screen them myself and will get her a new phone if they’re compromised.” He hesitated only a moment, then added, “I’ve sent my men to retrieve her aunt and bring her to the carriage house as well.”

  Roman shifted in his seat.

  Sergei cocked one eyebrow.

  “Her aunt is special to her,” Kir added. “The only family member she is close to, and she was afraid for her safety.”

  “An appropriate action,” Sergei said, surprising Kir. Even more surprising was the dry humor in his voice and the smug smile that came with it. “Though, I must confess, I don’t envy you dancing around the questions posed by not just one woman, but two.”

  He wasn’t wrong. To the degree he was able to share information, Cassie deserved to know the truth of who he was and what he did in the same way Evette did. But beyond that, the lines with family grew tricky. “I’ve met her once. I take her as a very no-nonsense woman with street smarts and common sense. My hope is that she will read between the lines and offer Cassie the support she needs without requiring specifics.”

  Sergei nodded. “Fair enough. So long as she is loyal to the family, there are no concerns from me.” He volleyed his gaze between Kir and Roman. “What else?”

  “Cassie’s family is in Houston,” Kir said. “I don’t see whoever is behind this having that far of a reach, but leveraging them is a possibility.”

  “Not likely,” Roman said, “but possible. We could engage other family connections in Texas.”

  Sergei shook his head. “Keep ties to us limited. Contact Beckett in Dallas. Ask him for security options in Houston, and hire them privately.”

  “Done,” Kir said. “I will also upgrade security at my home so that Cassie can relocate there.”

  Roman chuckled and shared a sly grin with Sergei. “Note how quickly our brother seizes the opportunity to move his woman into his home?”

  “Clever,” Sergei said. “Though, I suspect he’ll have a hard time moving her out of the carriage house with Evette playing interference. She likes having another woman close by.”

  Whether it was the razzing from his brothers, or the highs and lows of the day that made him snap, he couldn’t say, but he spoke without censure. “She belongs with me.”

  Silence stretched in the wake of his clipped words, Roman and Sergei trading shocked and uncertain looks between each other.

  Kir shifted in his chair and lowered his gaze. Of all the people who deserved his short-temper, Sergei wasn’t among them. Not when he’d been one of the few people to stand by his side through the years. “My apologies. I meant no disrespect.”

  “No disrespect was taken,” Sergei said. “Quite the contrary, I’m encouraged by the level of your commitment.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together. “I assume with the measures you’ve taken today, Cassie now knows the reasons behind your search?”

  The question felt like a test. A trap like so many others that had been thrown before him growing up to see if he’d put his bratva in front of everyone else, or make the same poor choices as his father.

  But Sergei wasn’t like other vors. He was a true brother-in-arms. As fair as he was lethal. “Until this morning, she was unaware. But once the email came in and I demanded she move, I felt she deserved to know. Without it, she would not fully understand the risk.”

  Sergei didn’t miss a beat. “Good.” He looked to Roman, then back to Kir. “Then unless there’s anything else, I think it’s time to execute.”

  “Agreed.” Kir stood, more than ready to engage in tangible actions after a morning of holding himself in check. He paused beside his chair only long enough to meet each brother’s stare and added, “The sooner we find who’s behind the email, the sooner we make them pay for what they’ve done.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  One definite upside to having bodyguards that drove you everywhere—someone else had to deal with rush hour traffic on I-10. Add to that, Sergei—or Kir, or whoever it was in charge of security—didn’t scrimp on cars, because the Mercedes they’d been carting her around in the last four days kept her comfortably isolated from the chaos outside.

  Another thing she’d learned? Sam, Patrick and Abel were not only great at being stealthy, but had a decent sense of humor when Kir wasn’t around. Only once had one of her camera guys asked about Abel watching them, and that had only been because a drunk at a festival had made the hugely unwise decision to try and pick her up.

  She stared out the passenger window, noting all the unknown people from all walks of life going about their normal days not giving her the slightest attention. She should be happy. Or at least relieved
that nothing else had happened. God knew, every single person in Kir’s family had gone out of their way to make her feel comfortable. At home and relaxed. And, for the most part, she was. Especially, when it was just her, Kir and Frieda at the carriage house at night.

  But something was off. Something that kept her feeling like there was a barrier between her and everyone else, and she was the only one aware of it.

  Finally off the highway and making inroads to the Garden District, Sam met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Same schedule tomorrow, Miss McClintock?”

  “It’s Cassie. Miss McClintock makes me feel weird. But yes, I won’t work the later shift until Saturday and Sunday when I’m on set.”

  “I bet that’s cool,” Patrick said from the front passenger’s seat. “I saw a story one time where they explained how the weathermen use a green wall for the maps. Is it really like that?”

  “Pretty much. If you want, maybe on a weekend, you guys could come and watch one of the newscasts.”

  “They’d let you do that?” Sam said.

  “Sure. Lots of people bring family and friends in.”

  Sam glanced at Patrick then focused on the road ahead. “Maybe after things calm down. I noticed your boss checking us out in the front parking lot tonight before you came out. Probably better to keep things low key for now.”

  Great. Dodging questions from her cameramen was one thing. Skirting questions from her editor would be a whole different terrain riddled with land mines.

  Sam pulled into the drive, and Patrick hopped out and opened her back door out as soon as the gearshift was in park. “Any plans for you or your aunt tonight?”

  “Definitely not for me. I got enough of humanity covering the Caribbean Festival this afternoon in near 100-degree heat.” Cassie spied her aunt sitting sideways in the wingback on the other side of the carriage house’s front picture window, her legs thrown over the arm and every scrap of her attention lasered on Cassie’s arrival. She motioned toward her aunt. “Now, for her—there’s no telling. She’s known far and wide for her spontaneity, so you’ll just have to be prepared to wing it.”