20 - Leonid
20
Leonid
—
Daybreak unfurls in a whisper of golden light over the dock. The brisk air bites my skin and recharges my senses.
I left Frankie and Kody in bed to meet Monty before dawn and help him prepare the yacht for a day on the water.
By the time I arrive, Oliver already stocked the galley with drinks, snacks, and pre-made meals.
I trail Monty from aft to bow, checking the fuel and topping off the engine oil, as he answers my questions and explains all the nautical terminology.
No pretentious suit today. He wears jeans and a Henley, same as me. It makes him appear more approachable. Less intimidating. I don’t have the constant urge to break his face.
The vibe between us flows effortlessly when we focus on machinery, technology, and weight-lifting.
Or maybe we just get along better when Frankie’s not around.
I hit the gym with him every day, where we release our anger on the punching bag rather than on each other. Sometimes Kody and Frankie join us. Kody’s leg isn’t fully healed enough for heavy lifting, but when she runs the trails, he runs with her.
Monty and I haven’t sorted out our differences since that first morning over breakfast. Every so often, I catch him glowering at me with murderous jealousy in his eyes. But outside those unguarded moments, we seem to have a temporary truce.
We’re a lot alike. Same hot-headed tempers. Both natural leaders with a knack for learning how mechanical things work.
Doesn’t mean I haven’t checked every inch of this yacht for cameras, weapons, and recording devices.
I trust him about as much as I trust Doyle.
But she asked Monty to accept us, and he’s making an effort to do that by teaching us the nuts and bolts of this new world.
“Hey, which one is for the bilge pump?” I scan the board of switches, attempting to test the electrical systems, but I need a diagram. “Monty?”
No response.
Stepping onto the deck, I find him standing on the starboard side, his hands clenched around the taffrail, his attention rapt on the path that leads to the estate. Something akin to eagerness etches his face.
I follow his gaze, squinting.
Then I see her.
Holy fuck.
As Frankie steps onto the path, the world slams to a stop.
A form-fitting sundress clings to the feminine shape of her body, leaving little to the imagination. The deep emerald green fabric complements her striking eyes and pale skin. Red hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the light and shimmering like fire.
I can’t breathe. All the feeling in my body rushes to my cock as I drink in every detail. She’s so beautiful it hurts. So fulfilling I’ll never be thirsty again.
I’ve seen her in leggings, snow pants, threadbare jeans, designer trousers, skimpy little panties, and gloriously nude, but never in a dress.
She looks ethereal. A goddess come to life. Fucking radiant.
I want to pull her close and tell her how much I love her. I love her inner strength, her intelligence, her compassion. I want to shout it across the Sitka Sound and tattoo it on my skin. She would make fun of me for that, but I love that she calls me out on shit.
I love that she calls me hers .
But right now, it’s her outer beauty that has me mesmerized. Every step she takes toward me is a promise, every glance a challenge. And I’m helplessly sucked in.
Beside her, Kody walks with a possessive hand on her back, his eyes darting between her and her surroundings. He knows exactly the effect she has on everyone, including the security team scattered around the perimeter.
I’ve met all the guards. They’re blank-faced and professional. But they’re also male.
Monty hasn’t taken his damn eyes off her, his expression awestruck.
The flames of jealousy burn in my chest, pushing me forward. I hop off the yacht and meet her on the dock.
“Morning, handsome.” She smiles up at me.
“Morning, love.” I steal a kiss that leaves me wanting more. “You look fucking lush.”
“Thank you.” She rises on tiptoes and whispers in my ear, “I shaved my legs.”
“Why?” I lean back, examining her bare skin beneath the dress. “What’s the purpose?”
She sighs.
Monty clears his throat behind me, causing me to whip my head around.
His lips press together, and his throat jumps beneath the bandage, swallowing whatever he wants to tell her.
Instead, he says, “Shall we?”
We board the yacht, and she veers into the command deck, her hands deftly checking the controls and adjusting settings. Of course, she knows her way around this vessel. It’s hers as much as it’s his.
Because they’re married.
The thought stirs a blizzard of emotions in me. There’s jealousy. Always. But also admiration. She’s too independent to be a passenger princess. She also has her own boat—the faded, rickety little cruiser in the adjacent slip—which she used to go to work every day. I love her even more for keeping that old thing.
“Frankie spent a lot of time on this yacht.” Monty leans in the doorway, the low rumble of his voice hinting at intimacies that make my hackles bristle. “She knows it better than anyone.”
Every surface, wall, couch, and bed.
I hear it in his tone, see it in his hooded eyes.
He not only fucked the only two women I’ve had sex with, but he also impregnated them. Not that I have any possessive feelings about Gretchen. I fucking hated that raping bitch. But my very complicated sexual history connects me to him in deeply disturbing ways that I try not to think about.
These are things I should be discussing with a therapist. Anyone but Dr. Whitaker. My session with him was a wasted hour of questions, which I refused to answer because I was too busy plotting his death with a growl in my throat.
And this was before Kody told me that the doctor put his hands on her.
“It’s been a while.” She looks over the displays and gauges with familiarity. “But I can still operate this fancy lady in my sleep.”
“You want to steer her into the Sound?” Monty asks.
“Nope. I’d rather sit on the sun deck.” She angles her neck, peering out the window. “Not a raindrop in the sky. You picked a great day for a cruise, Monty.”
They share a private smile, and I’m back to wanting to gut him.
As I help Monty release the mooring lines to depart, two security guards board the yacht.
Monty catches my eye. “I’m not taking any chances.”
I hadn’t considered the need for security on this excursion. Kody and I are so used to protecting her by ourselves. That’s our job. The thought of sharing that role grates even as I know it’s the right decision.
Back at the bridge, Monty explains the yacht’s controls to Kody and me. Frankie saunters off to the sun deck.
Then we’re off.
Kody and I take turns at the wheel while Monty directs us. There’s a lot to remember, but we learn quickly. Kody doesn’t say much beyond his usual grunting, but I see the smile in his eyes. He’s enjoying this as much as I am.
As we move farther from the shore, the vastness of the water spreads out before us. I saw the ocean from the plane when we flew in, but it was dark and distant. Down here, it looks bigger, breathtaking and deep, an endless ripple of blue beneath the cloudless sky.
Sometime later, she returns with a tray of champagne glasses filled with orange liquid.
“Mimosas.” She passes them out and sets the tray aside. “Champagne and orange juice.”
Monty raises his glass in a toast. “To family and new experiences.”
We all clink our glasses together, and Kody and I exchange a look.
This is a celebration, a moment of unity and shared purpose, even if undercurrents of tension and distrust remain.
The bubbly drink fizzes on my tongue, the taste sharp and sweet. I prefer Kody’s vodka.
She finishes her drink and looks at Monty. “When do you go back to the office?”
“I sold the Sitka office.”
“What? Why?”
“You know why, Frankie.”
Yeah, we all know. The night of her abduction, he stayed at that office instead of coming home and protecting her. I hope he chokes on his guilt for the rest of his miserable life.
“What about your company?” she asks. “You built it from the ground up. Please, tell me you’re not selling it.”
“I’m not. I hired more senior management, put strong executive officers in place, and delegated my responsibilities. I still own the entire enterprise and retain final approval on crucial decisions. When I’m needed, I’ll work from my office at home. But I stepped away from the day-to-day involvement to focus on my personal affairs.”
By personal affairs, he means her.
“I see.” She wets her lips. “Meanwhile, I’ll be doing the opposite.”
“What does that mean?” I go still.
“I’m returning to the hospital, Leo.”
“When? You’ve only had your freedom back for a week. Give yourself time to heal.”
“The quicker she returns to work,” Monty says, icy eyes fixed on her, “the sooner she doesn’t have to depend on me. Isn’t that right, darling?”
“I love my job.” She holds his stare. “I miss it. And you guys need more bonding time without me in the way.”
“Fuck that.” I dip toward her. “You’re not in the way.”
Monty studies her, his fingers tapping on the instrument panel. “When you return to work, you’ll have security shadowing you.”
“I figured.”
“We need to establish a safety plan, not just for reporters but for whoever else might be watching you.”
“I know.”
“That’s it?” I screw up my face. “It didn’t occur to you to discuss this with Kody and me?”
“Not everything needs to be a fight.”
“Not a fight. But how about a conversation? No more lone ranger mentality, remember? Every decision is made collectively with everyone’s agreement.”
She’s pushing this too soon. Kody and I can’t get jobs until we have IDs. That will take weeks.
Given the scowl on Kody’s face, he’s thinking the same thing.
“We’re not in the hills anymore where every decision is a matter of life or death.” She squares her shoulders. “Things are different now.”
I don’t want things to be different, not where she’s concerned.
Why is Monty agreeing with this so easily? He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who gives into her every whim. Is it because he knows he has no leverage with her? Or does he know something that we don’t?
“I’m going to call Rhett.” She pulls her phone out of her bag and steps toward the door. “Maybe I can see him while we’re in town.”
With that, she breezes out of the bridge with her phone to her ear.
“That’s a bad idea,” I mutter.
“Which part?” Monty crosses his arms.
“All of it.”
“You have a lot to learn, kid.”
“Call me a kid one more time.” I lean into his space, bridging the gap with a seething exhale. “Go on, Uncle Monty. I dare you.”
“Enough.” Kody shoves my shoulder, breaking us apart. “Save it for the punching bag.”
I step back, letting the chill of the early April morning cool my temper.
“She’s stubborn.” Monty watches her through the window, tracking her movements across the bridge deck. “Her career has always been a point of contention. It’s a battle I lost when we married and one I certainly won’t win now.”
We drift into silence as the yacht cuts through the glass-like water. The engines hum beneath my feet, a distant, powerful purr reverberating through my bloodstream.
Monty stands at the helm, a stoic thorn of power in my side. I want to hate him more than I do.
His calculating blue eyes, the same shade as Wolf’s but older, scan the horizon with the intensity of a predator. It’s a look I’ve grown accustomed to, the trait of a man who’s always alert, always hunting.
The more time I spend with him, the more I notice our family resemblances. Like the exaggerated squareness of his jaw, especially when he’s clenching it all to hell.
“Holy shit.” His head jerks up, and he points. “Look.”
I follow the line of his finger, searching the water. At first, I see nothing but calm, undulating waves.
Then something moves. A fin slices through the surface, sleek and dark against the shimmering sea. Another follows, then another, until a group of massive, sleek-bodied creatures emerges in slow, majestic succession.
“Whales?” I breathe, blinking, not believing what I’m seeing.
“A whole damn pod of them.” Monty kills the engine and darts to the starboard deck for a better view.
A few feet away, Frankie leans over the railing, smiling with a hand on her chest.
I smile with her, gobsmacked.
Their giant bodies move with an elegance that defies their size, gliding through the water like titans of the deep. Low, rumbling moans vibrate through the hull, accompanied by melodic, otherworldly calls, each note rising and falling with lyrical grace.
Kody’s wide eyes meet mine, and I feel it. The energy in the air. The music of life.
We’re no longer surviving.
We’re living.
He steps out to join her at the taffrail, his broody expression gone, revealing the boy I haven’t seen for twenty years. The boy before the trauma and abuse, who was so easily captivated by the raw beauty of nature.
My chest swells with a swarm of feelings I can scarcely name.
I don’t know how common a whale sighting is, but this feels like a gift, a glimpse into a world we were denied.
The beasts circle the yacht, exhaling with powerful whooshes that send plumes of mist into the air. The forceful sounds punctuate their softer melodies with primal power. It’s the sound of life, of strength, of creatures perfectly adapted to their watery realm.
As they return to the depths, their tails rise into the air, each one unique in pattern and shape. They arch sinuously, dark and glistening, silhouetted against the sunlight. Water cascades off the edges, sparkling like diamonds and falling into the sea with a soft splash.
When the final one dives, its fluke lingers for a moment longer, a final flourish before slipping beneath the waves. The water closes over them, leaving ripples of serenity.
I steal another glance at Kody, noting the strange upturn of his lips, the softening of his hardened features. For once, the shadows in his eyes are chased away by the simple, unadulterated joy of witnessing something so pure, so untainted by the darkness we’ve known.
Monty returns to the bridge and starts the engine, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. The peacefulness on his face smooths his skin and relaxes his features, making him appear a decade younger.
Turns out not even Monty Novak is immune to idyllic moments.
I join him, a smile tugs at my lips. “That’s something we never saw in the hills.”
“No shit.” He almost smiles back. “There’s nothing quite like it. Makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn’t it?”
“Right, because nothing says small and insignificant like standing on a billionaire’s yacht.”
He stares at me, blinks, then drops his head back and roars with laughter. He laughs so loudly that Frankie spins in our direction, her mouth hanging open.
It wasn’t that funny. More on the edge of mockery, but maybe that’s what he finds so amusing.
“You haven’t even seen all the yacht’s features.” He flips on the auto-pilot and strides out the door, motioning at us to follow. “Come on.”