2 - Leonid
2
Leonid
—
My protective instincts leap into overdrive as Kody and Frankie join me on the tarmac, their faces grim.
The chilly air nips my skin, but it’s a familiar cold, one I’ve battled all my life. Right now, it’s the only thing I relate to amid the sights and sounds of our surroundings.
Monty may know these places, these routines, but for Frankie, I trust no one.
My protection isn’t passive. It’s an active, constant thing as I probe the sprawling expanse of concrete and snow, the distant mountains, and the few private jets scattered across the field.
“Stay close.” Kody grips her hand, scanning the area, too.
She’s used to this—the commotion, the people, the world beyond the wilds of Hoss. This may be a controlled environment, but the openness of the space, the shadowed areas beneath the planes, all of it triggers my vigilance.
Her safety is my responsibility, a weight I shoulder willingly, fiercely.
Together, we trudge toward the sleek jet, its wings slashing against the gray sky. We slow our steps to maintain Frankie’s stiff pace, refusing to rush her as she works through her rising panic.
With Kody’s focus on her, mine remains razor-sharp on the less visible corners of our path, the places where someone could hide, the angles of approach a stalker might use if they’re watching.
The crunch of our boots on the lightly frosted ground, the clatter of a cart being loaded, the hum of engines, the muffled conversations of the ground crew—every noise is cataloged and analyzed for its threat level.
A ground worker passes too close for my liking, and my body tenses, ready to act. But he moves on without giving us a second glance, and I force myself to relax.
I note the positions of the cameras on the hangar walls and the faces of the crew. I commit everything to memory. Every detail matters, every observation could be the difference between safety and danger.
Monty meets us halfway, halting us mid-step as his eyes narrow on Frankie. “What’s wrong?”
I grit my teeth, biting back the fuck you that surges, resenting how keenly he sees her, how intimately he understands her.
“I’m fine.” She fidgets, glancing at the plane.
He follows her gaze, his forehead knitting. Then his lips part, and he drags a hand down his face. “Shit. I didn’t think.” His gaze softens as he steps closer. “We don’t have to fly. We can drive to Sitka. It’ll take a few days by car, but it’s an option. Or a yacht. It’ll take longer, but we can manage.”
“No.” She shakes her head vehemently, her chest hitching in shallow, uneven motions. “I can do this.”
But her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated. She’s panicking.
Everything inside me screams to grab her and carry her away from this. From him. But she doesn’t want to be sheltered. She wants to be brave.
If she only knew how goddamn brave she already is.
Monty’s hand twitches at his side as if he wants to reach out and comfort her, too. It makes me burn with jealousy, my face stinging with heat.
“Fuck that.” He removes his phone and taps on the screen. “I’ll make other arrangements. Go back to the car.”
“Don’t.” She reaches for his device.
He holds it above her head and continues typing on it. “It’s been a tough few days, and we have other options. I won’t force you to endure any more hardships.”
She stiffens, her eyes darting between Monty, Kody, and me, a flicker of resolve flashing across her striking features.
“I need to get this over with, Monty.” She sets her fists on her hips, the tension in her posture betraying her struggle. “I need to go home.”
Home .
Fuck if that doesn’t punch me in the gut.
Kody and I are her home.
Monty’s expression gentles, the muscles in his jaw loosening.
“All right.” He steps back, pocketing his phone. “But if you change your mind at any point, let me know.”
She nods, glancing at Kody and me, her lips pressing into a tight line.
Did she just manipulate him to get what she wanted? I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed off. I don’t want her leading him on for any reason.
We resume our march toward the jet, my heart pounding in my chest, the jealousy gnawing at me.
As we approach the stairs, Monty’s gaze lingers on her, his eyes dark with unspoken emotion. It takes all my willpower to check my temper, to resist the urge to confront him, to reclaim her from his blatant affections.
She’s ours now. We’ll overcome this like everything else. Together. Even if it means sharing her in a way that feels both necessary and impossible.
Our journey is only beginning, and despite the chill of the tarmac beneath our feet, we can only press forward, each step heavy with the burden of what still lies ahead.
Monty boards first, turning back with an extended hand to assist her. Before she can move, Kody steps between them, a flash of defiance flaring in his eyes.
He looks at me, and a wordless agreement passes between us. The cold wind whips around us, carrying the tension of our decision.
Monty goes rigid, setting his jaw. “What’s the problem?”
He’s used to controlling everyone around him, but he’ll quickly learn that he can’t control us.
No amount of fine clothing can smooth out the rugged edges of our souls, shaped by years of survival against harsher elements than these.
“In Sitka, Frankie will share a room with Leo and me,” Kody says clearly, each word deliberate, marking our territory in no uncertain terms.
Monty’s face turns to stone, his hand still outstretched, hanging in the air like an unanswered question.
Awkward.
His expression slowly empties, donning a mask of composure, but the frost in his blue eyes shows his true feelings—cold, cagey, dangerously aggressive.
“There are plenty of bedrooms.” He lowers his hand, too calm. “The guest house has two, and the main estate has five. No one needs to share.”
“We’re not boarding that plane until you agree to the sleeping arrangements.” I take a stance beside Kody, forming a solid front.
“For fuck’s sake. It’s cold out here. We can discuss it in—”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Frankie inches forward, squeezing between us. “You read my journal, Monty. You know I’ve been sharing a bed with them for months, and it’s more than for warmth. It’s comfort. It’s safety. We need to maintain some semblance of what we had. It’s crucial for us during this transition.”
His expression fractures, the image of a composed, controlled man cracking under the agony of what he lost.
His wife, the woman he loves, aligns her comfort and safety with two other men. This isn’t a battle he can win. Nor is it one he can afford to fight right now.
He wants us on that plane.
With a heavy sigh, he slips a hand into his pocket.
“You can sleep wherever you feel most comfortable.” His gaze flits between Kody and me. “I know you don’t trust me. Hell, you probably think I’m the stalker Denver talked about, the one hunting Frankie.” His voice lashes in the wind, his anger breaking through. “Denver put that suspicion into your heads on purpose. He wanted us divided and distracted, warring against one another as the real threat moves in. Don’t team up against me. We’ll be stronger together. I understand I have a long way to go to earn your trust, but until then, give me a chance to right my wrongs and prove myself.”
Frankie peers up at us, seeking our reactions.
Kody ascends the stairs and stands toe-to-toe with him. “We’ll hold you to that. Our priority is Frankie’s safety and happiness.”
“And my priority”—she grabs my hand—“is them.”
“Let’s board then.” Monty oozes confidence, arrogance even, but an undercurrent of defeat rests in the pinch of his mouth, a bitter pill swallowed.
As we climb into the jet, I’m hit by an overwhelming sense of opulence that makes the Turbo Beaver feel like a tin can in comparison. The interior gleams with polished wood and chrome, oversized leather seats inviting us to sink into luxury we’ve never known.
A crisp, clean scent permeates the air, far removed from the musty, fuel-tainted confines of our last desperate flight.
The cabin feels less constricting than the vast, unprotected landscape we’re leaving behind. In this enclosed space, flying toward a new life, the lines are drawn, roles defined, and alliances solidified.
Whatever we’re about to face, be it the shadows of Denver’s threats, Monty’s obsession with Frankie, or the task of assimilating into a foreign society, it’s a little less daunting when I consider the bond we share.
The importance of our unity can’t be understated. In the hills, where the world tried to crush us with ice and starvation and hungry beasts, our trust in one another kept us alive. Now, facing a world of concrete and excess and unknown predators, that trust is our greatest asset.
We are each other’s protector.
In the cabin, Monty’s attention zeroes in on her. He moves with that distinguished grace of his, drifting close enough to her to make Kody growl.
A warning Monty ignores.
“If you need anything during the flight, don’t hesitate to come to me.” He reaches to touch her hand.
She jerks away and lowers into the closest seat.
A faint shadow of pain darkens his face before he quickly covers it with a practiced smile. “The flight attendant will be available as well. Whatever puts you more at ease.” There’s a stiffness to his posture now, a hint of her rejection stinging him as he turns to me. “If you’re interested, you can join me in the cockpit. I can give you some pointers on flying this bird.”
I nod, wary but curious. “Might take you up on that.”
If I ride up front, it isn’t just about learning aviation. It’s strategic. I need to learn everything I can about this man and his world.
With a final, longing glance at Frankie, he slips into the cockpit, leaving us to settle in.
As the door closes behind him, the space feels charged and tense. She looks shaken, the quick withdrawal of her hand not lost on me.
“Talk to me.” I crouch before her.
“I don’t like hurting him.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before meeting my gaze. “I know that’s naive after everything he’s done. But what if his help is genuine? What if he’s a victim in this, just like us? I’m not trying to be mean—”
“You don’t have a mean bone in your body.” Kody crosses his arms, towering over us.
“We’ll get to the bottom of Montgomery Strakh.” I cup the back of her head and pull her face to mine. “In the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with being cautious and setting boundaries. He has no right to touch you, and when we land, we’ll make the rules clear for him.”
“My snow cabin boys have rules?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“Snow cabin boys?” I scowl. “When it comes to you and him, you better fucking believe your men have rules.”
“There is no me and him.”
“Exactly.” I kiss her lush mouth, savoring the soft, sensual glide of her tongue against mine, groaning into the heat. “I think I’ll stay back here with you.”
“No.” She fans her fingers over my braids, kissing me again. “Fly with Monty. Ask him about the plane, about what to expect in Sitka. Find out everything you can.”
“Okay, but if you need me—”
“She has me.” Kody grunts.
I glide my thumb along her bottom lip. “If Monty’s flying lessons are worth anything, I’ll be up there learning something useful for us.”
“I know.” She manages a small smile. “I love you.”
“My forever.” I look her over for any sign of distress, reluctant to leave.
“I’ve got her.” Kody clamps a hand on my head and shoves me away.
I lunge to my feet and grip his neck. “You need anything, you call for me.”
“Yep.”
“Keep her safe.”
“Always.” He swats me away, but the look he shoots me echoes the concern pulsing through my veins.
Her fear of flying could materialize into a full-blown panic attack.
He’ll alert me if that happens.
Bending down, I steal another kiss from her. Then I turn and make my way to the cockpit.
Even though I’m leaving her in Kody’s capable hands, my role as her protector never leaves me.
“Frankie.” I pause with my hand on the door. “I’m putting my trust in Monty to get us there safely. But make no mistake. If he looks at me wrong or if this becomes too much for you, I’ll turn this plane around myself.”
My words are a vow, carved from the depths of my savage commitment to her.