by Maggie Ryan
“Better?” Stryder asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she managed, wondering what he’d told his brother about the time spent in the bathroom. She didn’t ask as Stryder took the black jacket from her, helping her into a soft wool coat instead. As he’d predicted, the hem of the black tee hung long enough to give the illusion she was wearing a dress.
“Won’t you be cold?” she asked, watching as he shoved the jacket into a garment bag.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, motioning to another sports coat that was lying on the bed.
Once he’d zipped the garment bag and Anson had shut the suitcases, the three left the room. Only an hour earlier, she’d been terrified to enter with two strange men and yet now, leaving with them, she felt safer than she had since arriving in Moscow. Still, as she climbed into the car after Anson, sliding across the seat to allow Stryder to follow, she was overwhelmed with the knowledge that for the first time in her life, she was leaving her homeland. As if able to read her mind, Stryder reached over and placed his hand over hers as his brother asked the driver to take them to the airport.
“It’ll be fine,” he said, speaking softly so that his words didn’t travel through the divider between driver and passengers. When she didn’t answer, trying not to cry though she was pretty sure she had no tears left, she felt him squeeze her fingers. “Texas is a good place. It’s warm and…” As if not knowing what he could say that would ease her fears, he finally added, “you’ll be safe at the ranch.”
She gave him a nod, not really caring what she might think about some state in a country she’d never imagined seeing. The only thing that mattered was that once there, she would tell them everything she knew and make damn sure he kept his promise to save the other women as well.
The sight of the airport awed her. Though she’d never been on an airplane before, she tried not to panic thinking about standing in a long queue, going through x-ray machines or being patted down and having it discovered that beneath a man’s coat she wore only a thin tee shirt with nothing… not a stitch of underwear beneath. She’d heard tales of armed customs agents and drug sniffing dogs. When the taxi pulled up next to what had to be a private jet, she felt her fear of being discovered fleeing the country slipping away and a strange feeling taking its place. It took her a moment to understand the emotion was one of excitement. No, she told herself, not excitement. I can’t be excited about going from one captor to another. This is nothing more than relief that, so far, at least, these captors don’t appear to be as evil as the first.
“What about my passport?” she asked after Stryder helped her from the car. “Won’t they know it is fake?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” Several questions as to how he expected to do that filled her head but she wasn’t given a chance to voice a single one. “Go with Anson. I’ll join you in a minute.” When she didn’t immediately obey, sudden fear of discovery freezing her feet into place, she watched as his eyebrow quirked. “Obey me, Zoya.”
“Or what?” she snapped, not exactly sure why, as the order had been spoken calmly. Perhaps because it had been exactly that… an order?
“That’s something else we shall discuss,” he answered calmly. “But it will have to wait. Go on now.”
“Let’s get you settled,” Anson said, drawing her attention away from the dark eyes that hadn’t moved from her own.
With his hand on her arm, she had two choices. Obey and ask questions later or attempt to escape. And go where, do what? You’re at the airport without a ticket, a passport, or even a pair of goddamned panties. Her thoughts, and the sight of a very official looking pair of men striding towards them, had her nodding and allowing Anson to lead her up the metal stairs that had been pushed against the plane and through the door. She glanced back in time to see Stryder greeting the officials and handing them some documents.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” Anson said.
“Is that all you two say?” Zoya asked, tugging her arm free from his grasp. “Everything isn’t fine, and it won’t be until you and your brother keep your promise.”
“Which I assure you we will do. Now, where would you like to sit?”
Did nothing faze these men? Did nothing throw them off their game? She’d watched them speak to Poplov as if he were not the evil man he was. Neither of them had so much as backed down an inch. Yes, they’d handed over an obscene amount of money, and yet she hadn’t missed the fact that they hadn’t given Poplov more than a miniscule amount of respect. Unlike the other men who had almost seemed to grovel for their host’s attention and respect at their actions, these two had stood together as a pair… as strong as the metal for which they were named. She could only hope that these two men named Steele were as invincible as the American superhero, Superman.
True to his word, Stryder soon strode into the airplane, giving a wave to signal that the stairs could be rolled away. Zoya watched as he shut the outer door, double checking that it had closed and sealed properly. After opening the cockpit door, something else that shocked her, she heard him speaking but couldn’t make out the words. After the brief conversation, he walked down the aisle towards where she was seated. Squatting down beside her, he clicked the two ends of the seatbelt into place.
“I can do it—”
“It’s fine.” He dropped into the seat next to her, though there were at least a dozen others he could have chosen. The click of his seatbelt came as she felt the plane begin to roll down the runway. As it picked up speed, her hands clutched the armrests. Thoughts of how impossible it should be for such a huge contraption to lift from the Earth and remain aloft flooded through her mind. A soft keening sound had her squeezing her eyes shut as she recognized the pitiful noise was coming from her own throat.
A warm hand descended over hers and though she heard the words, “It’s fine,” uttered again, the only thing she hoped was that it truly would be.
A few minutes later, her terror began to subside as the plane leveled out. Her eyes remained shut until she heard a click and the hand lifted from hers. Opening her eyes, she saw Stryder rising from his seat.
“What can I bring you for dinner?”
“What?” She hadn’t given a single thought to food but at his question, another sound had her cheeks flushing. The grumble of her stomach announcing her hunger was very audible.
“Are you a vegan?”
“No, not at all,” she said. “Are you?”
His laugh was instant. “Hell no, but Jennie would disagree, I’m sure.”
“Jennie? Is she your wife?” Zoya felt her cheeks grow even warmer at the rudeness of the question.
“No, she’s our housekeeper,” Stryder said. “She believes in serving nothing but vegetables she grows herself and mysterious dishes concocted from tofu.”
The information surprised her. She’d seen his body—his nude body—and it hadn’t appeared to be one of a man existing on such frugal fare. But she had no intention of stating her thought. Instead, she said, “Oh, I was hoping to taste some real… cowboy food. You know, like hamburgers or, wait, isn’t Texas famous for bar-b-que? I’ve never had that before.”
His grin had her smiling as well. “I’ll tell you what. If you promise not to rat us out, I’ll make sure we stop and sample some BBQ before we get to the ranch. Okay?”
She was nodding before giving it much thought. “I-I’d like that, and I won’t tell.”
“Good. Now, what would you like for dinner?”
“Anything as long as it’s not too heavy.”
“I’ll see what we have,” he said, walking back down the aisle. It was only then that she realized Anson had also risen and moved towards the front. She watched as the two men disappeared around a small barrier, remembering seeing some sort of kitchen… galley, she supposed, as it was on an airplane. Turning her head, she looked out the window, the darkness revealing only pinpoints of light as the plane climbed higher. She watched the final lights disappear and turne
d her attention back when she heard Stryder approaching.
“Do you want to eat in your seat or at the table?”
“Um, I don’t know… is it safe?”
“Absolutely. If we run into turbulence, we can move back.”
Trusting him at his word, she undid her seatbelt and followed him towards the back of the plane, sliding into one of the chairs arranged around a table.
“I thought maybe a salad and a bowl of tomato soup might hit the spot,” he said, placing both before her.
“Both sound like something Jennie would approve of,” she said, shocked that she was able to tease even a bit.
Anson joined them and chuckled. “Already warning her about our Jennie?”
“As Pops says, forewarned is forearmed,” Stryder replied, helping remove dishes from the tray his brother held and placing them on the table as the two took their own seats. “Besides, we’re going to be stopping for BBQ on the way to the ranch.”
“Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while,” Anson said, smacking his lips in an exaggerated manner. “Just wait, Zoya. Once you’ve sunk your teeth into a chopped beef sandwich or a perfectly smoked rack of ribs, you’ll experience a piece of heaven. And don’t even get me started on thick slices of homemade bread smeared with butter, or mounds of potato salad.”
Zoya smiled again as the two brothers rolled their eyes before dipping their spoons into bowls of soup. Lifting her own, she began to eat, the warmth of the soup and the crisp greens of the salad not only satisfying her hunger, but easing her fears about being thousands of feet above the ground. They drank water while she sipped from a glass of milk. As she ate, she listened to the men, thinking of questions she wanted to ask and yet unable to pull her thoughts together.
“Zoya?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re about to face plant into your soup. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Blinking her eyes and sitting upright, she shook her head. “Bed?”
Stryder chuckled. “Yes, bed. There’s a room in the back. The flight is about twelve and a half hours. You’ve got to be exhausted, and sleeping will help pass the time.”
She’d not even considered the distance but suddenly any thought seemed to take energy she simply didn’t have. When he extended his hand, she took it.
“Good night, Zoya, sleep well,” Anson said.
“Good night.” With her hand securely held in Stryder’s, she followed him to the back of the plane where he opened a door. “Wow, I’ve never seen a real bed on an airplane,” she said and then giggled. “Of course, I’ve never been inside an airplane before, either.”
“Most planes aren’t anywhere near this luxurious,” Stryder said, leading her into the bedroom.
Suddenly a thought crystallized and she paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder. “Will he… will Poplov know where I am? Can’t he, I don’t know, track the plane or find out we went to Texas?”
“No. Not only is my family very good at concealing our travel plans, this plane actually belongs to a friend of ours. By the time we were eating dinner, any official documentation had this plane landing in Dubai. Don’t worry about a thing. Just get some sleep. There is clothing for you on the bed. It’s not much but enough to be comfortable sleeping, and a dress to wear when you awaken. If you need anything, just press the button on the nightstand. It’ll ring in the cabin.”
“Oh, all right. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a huge yawn.
“Well, that’s not quite as good as Master but it’ll do.” Before she could respond, he’d stepped back through the door, closing it gently and leaving her alone.
Stepping to the bed, she had to smile. Three pair of panties were lying on the navy blue comforter. They were all white but as she looked closer, she realized the man had covered his bases. She could choose between small, medium or large. Picking up the small pair, she stepped into them, covering her nakedness for the first time in hours. Not questioning her choice as to why she left the white nightgown lying on the bed, she instead moved to slip beneath the sheets. With a click, she turned off the small lamp and turned onto her side, her nose pressed into the sleeve of the tee shirt she hadn’t removed. With an inhale of a scent she had come to associate with Stryder, she discovered that she did indeed have tears left to shed. As they slid down her cheeks, she thought that with each tick of the clock, she was moving further away from her home. With a sob, she buried her face in her arm, thinking that her parents, her beloved babushka must be terrified. By trusting Katarina, by allowing the woman total control over her choice of apartment, her every activity, she’d not once called her family. They must be so worried and scared that something had happened to her. Little did they know that she’d even arrived in Moscow. They’d not know she’d been kidnapped or that she’d been auctioned like some animal. They’d never dream that the child who had convinced them that she was a grown woman who only sought to make her life more exciting was being taken thousands of miles from the only country she’d ever known.
“Shh.”
With the softly whispered words, she wasn’t truly surprised to find Stryder by the bed. What did surprise her was when he moved to sit on the bed and drew her into his arms. “I promise you that it will be all right—”
“No, it won’t. My fam… family…” Sobs didn’t allow her to continue, but his arms never loosened.
“Shh, I’ve got you. What about your family?”
In fits and starts, words often undecipherable, it took her several minutes to explain that her family was totally ignorant of anything that had happened since the day she’d left the farm.
“We can fix that,” Stryder said, his strokes against her arm gradually calming her. “You can call or send a message once we’re at the ranch. You can’t tell them where you are or what happened, at least not yet—”
“I-I don’t want them to ever know. It would… kill them.”
“Then they won’t,” he assured her. “But you can at least assure them that you are safe.”
“You’ll… you promise they’ll never learn…”
Her chin was lifted by his fingers until she was forced to look into his eyes. “I don’t say things I don’t mean… ever. I understand you want to spare them, but I’m sure your family is far stronger than you seem to believe… after all, they raised a very strong, brave woman. But it is your choice when, if ever, you tell them the truth. So yes, I promise they won’t hear it from me or my family. Trust me; trust us, Zoya.”
Instead of assuring him she did, she sobbed into his shirt as he held her. It was only when the cloth was sopping that she lifted her head. After he’d handed her a tissue and she’d blown her nose, she hiccupped. “What are you? A bat?”
The surprise on his face was followed by a quick grin. “While I appreciate you not calling me an asshole, why a bat?”
“Because you have the ears of one,” she said.
“No, not really, that’s more Anson’s gig,” he said cryptically, giving her a squeeze.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You will,” he said, again not really explaining anything before he said something she could comprehend. “Babe, you were crying rather loudly, both in the bath earlier and now.” When she tried to pull away, his arms tightened. “No, don’t be embarrassed. Believe me, I understand. Don’t ever worry about allowing your emotions to show. I don’t want you to keep them bottled up.” He paused and loosened his hold. Lifting her chin with his finger, he grinned. “I don’t want you to explode… especially not before you’ve sampled Texas chow.”
She could think of nothing to say and just nodded, repeating the gesture when he asked if she’d be all right and thought she could sleep. He slid her from his lap and once she was on her side, he pulled the covers up to her chin, tucking her in like a little girl.
“Try to sleep,” he said softly.
Uncomfortable with t
he tone and the care she could see in his eyes, she said, “Is that an order?”
He grinned and shocked her by giving her bottom a swat, his aim perfect despite her being curled up beneath the covers. “Yup, now close your eyes.”
It was easy to do while she considered his reaction to her question. The single swat certainly hadn’t hurt. Reaching back, she rubbed her ass and then smiled. Stretching her arms and legs, she realized she was not only warm, she was going to sleep unrestrained for the first time in a week. Curling up again, she took a deep breath of the fabric beneath her face and obeyed, falling into sleep, the sense of safety finally overcoming her fear of the unknown.
Chapter 7
Zoya must had been exhausted because once she fell asleep, she remained so for the entirety of the flight. Not that Stryder could blame her. She had gone through quite the ordeal, and she had experienced things that no human should ever have to. It pained him to think about how it was just beginning for her. Yes, she would be safe at the ranch—he would make damn sure of it—but she was going to have to relive her nightmare over and over as he and his family pumped her for information to bring Vasily Poplov down. There was no other way, and they couldn’t afford to protect her feelings at this time. Normally, he wouldn’t give a fuck about what he had to do to complete a mission, but something about this woman made him care.
She made him weak.
What the fuck was he doing getting into the shower with her? Holding her? Caring for her? Sure, he was a gentleman. Any respectable Texan considered himself as such, but this was different. He was crossing a line, and he knew it. And the way that Anson had kept shooting him knowing looks ever since they had Zoya in their possession told Stryder that the fact that she had his balls in a vice was fucking obvious.
“The truck is over there,” Stryder said as he placed his hand on Zoya’s lower back and guided her to their pickup where Anson and he had left it before flying out to Russia. “It’s about a three-hour drive, but we will stop at a favorite joint of ours on the way. Will that be okay with you?”
