22 - Leonid
22
Leonid
—
Leaning against the railing with Frankie in the cage of my arms, I devour the picturesque view of Sitka, hypnotized.
Majestic mountains loom over the harbor, the peaks capped with snow even in the spring. A harp-shaped bridge spans between the islands. Quaint shops and restaurants line the waterfront, a long maritime history weathering their wooden facades.
Brightly colored buoys mark the channels as Monty steers the yacht into the marina, treating the chaotic harbor like another routine part of his day.
Frankie points out the hospital where she and her mother worked. I knew her mother passed a few years ago from cancer, but I didn’t realize she was a nurse, too.
The hospital sits on a smaller island in the distance, dwarfed by the massive white hull of the cruise ship. Watercraft of all sizes bob in the water. The strange, potent scents of saltwater, fish, and diesel burn my nose with sensory overload, but in the best possible way.
“This is a working harbor, not just a tourist attraction.” She gestures at the rows of wooden piers, each one busy with fishermen unloading their catch. “My father worked in the fishing industry, but I don’t remember him. He died of heart disease when I was young.”
She goes on to describe how she spent her youth kayaking, boating, and exploring the numerous islands. During the winter months, when other kids were sledding and cross-country skiing, she remained indoors and read cozy mysteries.
For a woman who despises the cold as much as she does, she survived the harshest Arctic conditions with barely a complaint.
She has no idea how fucking tough she is.
As the marina grows closer, so do the people. The crowds, the noise, the sheer vibrancy of it all—everything is an unfamiliar and new experience. I’ve only read about places like this, seen them in movies, but witnessing it firsthand is something else entirely.
Monty maneuvers the yacht into its berth with expert precision, and I feel a twinge of envy at how effortlessly he handles everything.
With freedom like this, you can have anything you want.
Once we’re docked, she tells him her plan to stay behind.
Unlike me, he doesn’t bat an eye. He simply paces off toward the security guards to work out the logistics.
Kody starts arguing with her, and I leave him to it, knowing he won’t get anywhere.
When I reach Monty’s side, he’s midway through his instructions to the guards.
“She doesn’t leave your sight. When she uses the lavatory, you wait outside the door. She doesn’t step off the yacht. No one boards except Dr. Howell. If anyone is with him, deny entry and call me.” He directs a finger at his chest. “If she tries to leave, stay with her and call me. If anything feels off or suspicious…”
“We’ll call you, Mr. Novak.”
She walks with us to the port side as Monty gives her the same instructions he gave the guards.
Leaving her behind feels like I’m ripping out a vital organ. It’s not natural. But this short separation will be a good test for the three of us. Kody and I need to know we can handle this new world without her always by our sides.
“We won’t be long.” Monty steps off the yacht without another word.
“Have fun.” She rests her hands on her hips and hardens her voice. “No fighting.”
“No promises.” I cast one last glance at her, my gut twisting.
Kody lingers, his dark eyes glued to her.
“Come on.” I bump his shoulder with mine, propelling him into motion.
Monty leads the way through the maze of docks and onto the coastal road. The town buzzes with activity. People mill about, their chatter and laughter filling the air.
Every time a car zooms by, I flinch and reach for the rifle that’s not there. Kody burrows into his hunched shoulders, trying and failing to block out the sudden bursts of noise.
I catch myself staring at everyone and everything, especially at the children and the dogs on leashes.
When a family with wailing kids hurries by, Monty pauses, his voice low. “Have you ever seen a child?”
“Wolf, I guess.” I crane my neck, watching the adults wrestle their screaming toddlers. “Twenty years ago.”
“What about a dog?”
“Only wolves.” Kody stands stiffly, hands shoved in his jean pockets.
“Yeah, these pampered pets aren’t wolves.” Monty laughs.
It’s disorienting and surreal. Kody feels it, too. His eyes dart around, taking in the chaos with cautious curiosity.
“I usually have Kai drive me.” Monty studies us too closely. “But I thought it would be nice to walk since it’s not raining. Do you want to keep going?”
Kody and I nod. It takes a helluva lot more than kids and dogs to spook us.
“It’s just around the corner.” Monty continues down the street.
“Do we need to worry about reporters?” I ask.
“No.” He pauses, opening a door for a woman carrying an armful of boxes.
“Thank you, Mr. Novak.” She blushes and ducks her head, smiling shyly.
Once she’s inside, he continues down the road. “I have Sirena watching for media activity. There’s no press in town today.”
Always one step ahead.
Even so, my senses remain on high alert.
Walking through the town feels like I’m walking in someone else’s shoes. Each time I make eye contact with someone, they stare back with interest or surprise.
It’s weird, being the focus of all these strangers’ attention. Part of me wants to shrink away, to disappear into the background, but another part feels an electric thrill. It’s like I’m on display, a rare specimen they’ve never seen before.
When they stare, I stare back hard. They always look away first.
“You two draw a lot of attention.” Monty glances at us, wearing a remote expression. “Especially from the ladies. You’ll get used to it.”
“He claims it’s a family thing,” Kody mutters under his breath. “The way we look. Says being attractive is a blessing and a curse.”
We’re attractive? I snort. More like wild, filthy animals. Nothing like these people with their loud voices, fancy hairstyles, cloying perfumes, and brightly colored clothes.
Every face that turns my way glares like a spotlight, and I wonder if that’s what they see. A rugged, uncivilized outsider from another world. Kody and I tower over every person we pass. We’re more muscular, too, and we’re not even at our normal weights.
I keep my head up, pretending like I belong here. Kody stalks beside me, doing the same.
As we push through the throngs of people, I absorb the colorful signs, the smell of food, and the snippets of conversations. It’s all so vivid, so alive. Cars and buses clog the streets, their engines adding a constant hum to the cacophony of sounds.
Monty strides ahead, seemingly unfazed by the hustle and bustle. We follow closely, matching his confident pace. It’s a rush, being immersed in this living, breathing mass of humanity. Part of something bigger.
On the next street, he leads us to a nondescript building.
Entering a code into a keypad by the door, he steps inside. “Welcome to my garage.”
The overhead lights click on as we enter, illuminating a huge, windowless room.
Not just any garage.
The spotless floors shine with glossy gray paint, and holy fuck, this place is massive, stretching out at least ten cars deep. It reminds me of the Batcave, only brighter, shinier, and even more impressive.
Car lifts suspend hypercars in mid-air, giving the whole place a high-tech, futuristic vibe. And the cars…
Everywhere I look is a Ferrari, Lamborghini, Bugatti, Koenigsegg, the list goes on. I also spot luxury cars—a Bentley, Rolls-Royce, and Range Rover—each one polished to perfection, reflecting the lights like mirrors.
Kody and I exchange a glance, our eyes wide. He doesn’t know the names of most of these rare, exotic beauties. He didn’t devour the car and motorcycle magazines that Denver brought home like I did. But he understands finances and the value of the dollar.
Denver was passionate about economics and taught us everything he studied and researched. Kody’s probably thinking about all the things he could do if he had even a fraction of this wealth.
Monty strolls among the cars, inspecting a fender, dusting off a headlight, clearly proud of his collection. Honestly, I can’t blame him. Each car here probably costs more than I’ll earn over the course of my entire life.
“This is some serious hardware.” I whistle low, unable to wrap my head around the sheer amount of money sitting in this room. “You could buy a small country with what’s in here.”
“These cars are museum pieces. Rare works of art. I don’t drive them.” Monty grins, enjoying our reactions.
I amble over to a Lamborghini Aventador, my fingers itching to touch it. The paint job is flawless, a deep, glossy black that swallows all the light around it.
Next to it is a Koenigsegg Jesko, one of the rarest cars in the world. The carbon fiber body resembles something out of a sci-fi movie, all sharp angles and aerodynamic curves. The red paint is too bright for my tastes, but the craftsmanship, the power…this machine is built for one thing. Speed.
“We’re taking this one out for driving lessons, right?” I thrust my thumb at it.
“Sure.” Monty lifts a shoulder. “Any one you want.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I was.”
“Which one is the easiest to handle?” Kody crosses his arms, glancing around. “And holds more than two passengers?”
“The Bentley.” Monty nods toward the rear of the garage.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say boring. But no one would call a Bentley boring.
“This is wild.” I shake my head. “When you find something you like, you don’t fuck around.”
“You could say that.” Monty’s voice drops, his expression darkening.
He’s no longer thinking about his damn car collection.
Kody stiffens beside me.
“Enough gawking.” Monty takes off toward the Bentley. “Let’s get to work.”
“Let it go.” I clap Kody on the shoulder. “Focus on learning.”
We follow Monty deeper into the garage. As much as his obsession with Frankie eats me up, I get it. He wants the best of the best, and she’s worth more than his yacht, jet, private island, and car collection combined.
And she’s the one thing he can’t have.
We pile into the Bentley, Monty in the driver’s seat. I sit beside him in the front with Kody in the back. The engine roars to life, and he takes us out of the garage.
As we drive through the town, people turn their heads to watch us pass. Either the Bentley is an unusual sight in this remote town or they recognize the man driving it. Probably both.
We cross over a bridge, and I roll down the window, savoring the scent of saltwater and pine in the air.
“How did Frankie meet Rhett?” I ask. “Did he hire her?”
“They met in Anchorage during her residency. When he accepted the Chief of Surgery position and moved to Sitka, he brought her with him. She grew up here, so it was an easy decision for her. Especially since her mom had just been diagnosed with cancer.”
Once we’re out of the town, Monty hits the gas, and the car surges forward, taking us onto the rural Alaskan mountain roads. The scenery changes rapidly, giving way to vast stretches of untamed wilderness.
Towering pine trees flank the road, their dark green needles brushing against the cerulean sky. Snow-capped mountains tower around us, the jagged peaks piercing the horizon.
The road twists and turns, carving a path through the rugged terrain. Every now and then, we catch glimpses of wildlife. A deer darting across the pavement. An eagle soaring high above. The beauty of this place is raw and untouched. It feels more like home.
“You met her in the hospital?” I glance at his stony profile. “You were her patient?”
“Yeah. I was playing basketball with some of my colleagues and dislocated my kneecap. She was the trauma nurse who put me back together.” He swallows. “I’ve replayed that day a million times in my head. It was a chance meeting. I don’t know how Denver could’ve orchestrated it.”
“He couldn’t have known you would get injured,” Kody says from the back seat. “But if he was connected with someone in that hospital…”
“They could’ve assigned her to me for some nefarious reason.” Monty nods. “That’s a lot of could’ves and what ifs with no supporting evidence. All we have is the ramblings of a psychopath.”
“A psychopath who knew you met her in the hospital.” I grit my teeth. “How did Denver know that?”
“She never told him?”
“No.” I drum my fingers on my knee. “He said the first time he saw her was in that hospital, two years before he abducted her. Said he got a kidney stone while fishing in the Sitka Sound, and when he arrived at the hospital, he saw her in the hallway.”
“He had a different story in his video.” Kody shifts behind me. “He said he saw her during her residency in Anchorage, long before Monty knew her. So which is it?”
“Someone knows.” My ribs tighten. “And that someone is the who in his riddle.”
“You still think it’s me?” Monty’s hand twitches on the steering wheel.
“I haven’t ruled anyone out.”
Scowling, he pulls over on an empty stretch of road. “Take the wheel.”
I slide into the driver’s seat, heart pounding, as he gives me a few pointers.
Then we’re off.
The pedal responds to my touch like an extension of my foot, jolting us forward. After a few hard brakes and jerky whiplashes, I’m driving, turning, speeding up, and grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
The Bentley hugs the curves of the road, its engine purring like a contented beast. Much easier to drive than the snow machine.
The scenery blurs past in a rush of green forests, white snow, and blue sky. The freedom is intoxicating, a reminder of why we fought so hard to escape the hills.
“Not bad.” Monty clears his throat and drags his gaze to mine. “I mean it. You’re a quick learner. Fast reflexes. You have a natural skill for driving, piloting, and operating machines.”
“Thanks.” Refusing to read too much into his praise, I find Kody’s eyes in the rearview. “Ready to take over?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”