26 - Leonid
26
Leonid
—
Frankie and I lie on the bed in the guest cabin, our bodies facing each other, noses almost touching. Our hands lace together, fingers intertwined with an intimacy that stokes my protective fire.
Those fucking texts weigh heavily on my mind. I wish I had a better grasp of phone technology. The urgent need to talk through it with Kody has my heart rate pinned in the red zone.
The situation is dire, but we’ve faced worse. The key now is to remain vigilant, to out-think and outmaneuver whoever this nutjob is.
As I lie there, staring into her burdened eyes, determination charges me. We’ll uncover the truth, and we’ll protect what is ours. No matter the cost.
“What are we going to do?” she whispers, her breath warm against my lips.
“We’ll start by figuring out who sent those messages. I’ll learn what I can about the technology, see if it’s traceable. In the meantime, we’ll be careful, watchful. We won’t let them scare us into hiding.”
“I told Rhett I was ready to return to work.”
“Not until we know who’s threatening you.”
“But you just said—”
“We’re not hiding. Being careful means staying together. So unless I can shadow you at the hospital…”
“You can’t.” She looks like she might argue but instead asks, “What if it’s Monty?”
“I’ll go through his phone when he returns.”
“If he used a burner, he would’ve tossed it.”
I need a damn manual to explain burners, unknown numbers, and the inner workings of electronic communication.
“What did you tell Rhett?” I ask.
“He only knows what the media knows. When he started to leave, I panicked.” She sighs, a jagged, weary sound. “So I told him the truth. I’m afraid to be alone right now because of things that happened to me in the Arctic. I kept it vague, and he stayed without prying for details.”
“You should’ve called me.”
“I couldn’t.”
Because a cowardly cunt-rag with a phone threatened our lives. Someone should tell that cunt that I’m the one to watch out for, the fangs in the shadows, the knife in the heart.
I’m coming for you, you dead motherfucking cunt.
“I hate feeling so helpless,” she murmurs. “I hate that someone out there has the power to send me into a panic attack. I used to be stronger than this.”
“There’s a limit to how many punches a person can withstand before they collapse. You’ve endured more hits than most people, and you’re still standing.”
“I’m quite horizontal at the moment.” She trails her toe along my calf. “Don’t think I can stand if I tried.”
“You’re not helpless. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”
“Tell me about your afternoon.” She rests a hand on my jaw, caressing my short beard. “The driving lessons and Tipsy Sailor. I want to hear everything.”
I give her the highlights from beginning to end, including all the ways I’m a better driver than Kody.
As I talk, her stress melts away under a tired smile. That smile lingers throughout my narration of the fawning women at the bar. She even laughs when I describe how Kody shut down Sirena.
But as I describe my favorite cars in Monty’s collection, exhaustion sets into her features, the fight in her eyes slowly losing to the pull of sleep.
Her eyelids flutter. Her breathing deepens. Despite her efforts, she succumbs to the rest her body desperately needs.
I want to step out and watch for Kody, but I won’t leave her alone.
“Sorry, love.” Carefully, I lift her in my arms, grab her phone, and carry her into the sitting room in the main cabin.
She startles awake for an evanescent moment before passing out again.
Her head rests against my chest as I settle onto the couch, holding her tightly, my heart clenching with vicious protectiveness.
Beyond the lapping of waves and occasional splash of jumping fish, the harbor is eerily quiet. Shadows play in the periphery, shifting with the yacht’s movement, keeping me on edge.
The silhouettes of the guards bleed into the dark backdrop. One stands at the bow, scanning the water. Another patrols the decks, his steps methodical and silent.
Even though I know they won’t protect us from Monty, I’m glad they’re here so I can focus on Frankie.
As I watch her sleep, my resolve hardens. Whoever is behind this, whatever their motives, they will not win.
They will not break us.
I brush her hair from her face, exposing her serene expression, soft in sleep. The turmoil she endured while I was in town makes me fuming mad. I’ll do anything to keep her safe, to shield her from the horrors that haunt her.
At last, the sound of advancing footsteps breaks the quiet. I recognize Kody’s gait, deliberately heavy so that I hear him.
She shifts in my arms but doesn’t wake as he enters the cabin. He stalks directly to her and drags his nose along her scalp, inhaling deeply, smelling her. Then those black eyes ensnare mine, probing, questioning, sensing something’s wrong.
Standing behind him, Monty watches our interaction, his expression unreadable.
I hold the air in my lungs as I carefully set her on the couch, trying not to wake her. But she stirs anyway, lifting her head.
“Kody.” Her cheeks rise with an unguarded smile of relief.
As I hand him her phone, I keep my attention on Monty’s reaction. His brow furrows deeply, confusion carving across his face.
We wait while Kody reads the messages, his features darkening. He returns the phone to her, his eyes churning with primal dominance.
The sight of his quiet rage calms me.
“What’s wrong?” Monty asks, his voice flat.
“She received threatening messages from an unknown number.” I hold Monty’s assertive gaze. “Let me see your phone.”
“No.” He gestures for her device. “Show me.”
I hold out a hand. “Your phone first.”
His eyes flash dangerously. No brotherly love there. Only shivery, insulted, self-righteous outrage. Then he blinks, and it clears away, replaced by rankled exhaustion.
“Monty.” She sits up, her voice husky. “When I asked you if you were hiding anything from me, do you remember what you said?”
“Yes.” He grits his teeth.
“What did you say?”
“If you ask, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I’m asking.” She nods at his pocket, where he keeps his phone. “This is how you earn my trust.”
After a tense moment, he sighs. “If I wanted to send you threatening messages, I would use an online service that allows texting with a fake sender ID. The same way cybercriminals change the sender ID to impersonate friends, family, and legitimate companies. If I were your unknown number, it wouldn’t show in my sent or deleted texts. The evidence wouldn’t appear on my phone at all because I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“Then you won’t mind me poking around,” I say.
Oh, he definitely minds.
His lips flatten in a seething line, holding back all the ways he wants to tell me off. Then he looks at her. His face softens, and he reluctantly hands over his phone.
I scroll through his most recent messages. Texts from Sirena about media sightings in town—or lack thereof. Another text states she heard we were at Tipsy Sailor, and she’s on her way inside. Other messages go back and forth with various colleagues and assistants, nagging him to sign off on documents and reschedule meetings that he missed. Then there’s a conversation with a guy about flight school.
I hold that one to his face, lifting my brow in question.
“It was just an inquiry.” His nostrils flare. “If you’re not interested…”
“We can discuss it later.” I continue searching for the messages I don’t see—the cryptic ones to Frankie.
“There’s nothing here.” I pass it back to him. “Empty your pockets.”
“No.” He scowls.
“Then I’ll search you myself.” I step closer.
“The hell you will.”
“I’ll do it.” She stands, drawing his furious gaze. “Please.”
He works his jaw then gives her a curt nod.
I stiffen, hating the idea of her going near him. I already know she won’t find anything.
“Forget it.” I reach out to halt her.
She slips away from me and circles Monty’s rigid frame.
He turns to stone as she pauses behind him and sweeps her hands down his hips. My blood simmers as she frisks the front and back pockets of his jeans, stroking his goddamn ass.
He closes his eyes, throat bobbing, clearly savoring her pat down.
“Wallet.” She shifts to his front. “Keys…and…”
Her fingers go still.
Right beside his dick.
His eyes slowly open.
As I lunge forward, she holds up a finger, demanding me to stay back, to trust her.
Goddammit.
She presses on his pocket, and a wrapper crinkles.
“Condom.” She clears her throat.
“Tell me, wife ,” he says through his teeth, grinding each syllable, “why would I have a condom?”
“Not my business.”
“Everything I do is your business. Remove it from my pocket.”
“No.”
“You started this.” He stands taller, his posture challenging. “Finish it.”
Fuck me. She never backs down from a dare.
Stabbing her hand into his pocket, she yanks out…
A Band-Aid?
One of those large square pads in a wrapper.
“Oh.” Slowly, her eyes lift to the one on his neck.
He holds out his palm, and she sets the bandage on it.
“No.” He pockets the Band-Aid and extends his hand again with a firm, drawn-out command. “Your phone.”
She gives it over and slumps onto the couch.
He doesn’t waste time reading the texts, his face contorting with rage.
“You thought this was me?” he roars, his temper boiling over. “These messages are fucking disturbing. Threatening. They’re from someone who knows her, who knows us.”
“They knew she was with Rhett.” Kody hardens his eyes. “That narrows it down to the four of us and the security guards.”
“And anyone Rhett might’ve told.” She rubs her head. “I was missing for nine months. For all I know, he told the entire hospital he was coming to see me.”
“Text him. Ask him who he told.” Monty sets her phone in her hand and stalks to the port side, staring out the windows at the waterfront. “Anyone with a camera phone could’ve zoomed in and watched Rhett board the yacht.”
A sharp intake of air burns my throat.
“If I had to guess,” he says, “the sender used SMS spoofing. The number was probably a temporary number used by the spoofer for a short period and deactivated after the spoofing attempt.”
“That would explain why I couldn’t respond.” She purses her lips.
“ Somewhere between obsession and compulsion is impulse. ” Monty paces the cabin, cursing under his breath. “That’s a Pushkin quote.”
“How do you know?”
“When I found the book of poems in my father’s office, I acquainted myself with the poet’s work.”
He freezes and turns toward a side table. With a guttural bellow, he swings his arms and sends a lamp crashing into the wall.
She flinches, and Kody shifts, putting himself between her and Monty.
Gripping the back of an armchair, Monty straightens, rolls his neck, and with a startling switch in his demeanor, he takes control of the situation. “We’re returning to the safety of the island. Right fucking now.”
My raw nerves fray as he storms off toward the helm, his gait decisive and controlled.
“It could still be him,” Kody mutters.
“Do you think his reaction was an act?” I look at her.
“No.” She chews on her lip. “He can pull off stoic and distant. But when he’s upset, his temper flies just like yours. That—” she points in the direction he went “—was Monty under duress.”
With resistance, my gut agrees.
If the unknown number isn’t him, who is it? And what do they want?
The tension heightens as we prepare to depart. The yacht’s engine roars to life, and Monty navigates us out of the harbor.
As we gather at the helm, Kody takes over the controls for the short ride back. I imagine he’ll be operating his own boat soon, maybe a little cruiser like Frankie’s.
The engine hums as we carve a path through the black velvet water. Emotions simmer, each of us adrift in our private thoughts, the gravity of those texts dragging at our souls.
“How did the negotiations with Pilip go?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Monty made an offer Pilip couldn’t refuse.” Kody’s grip tightens on the wheel, his voice steady yet tinged with something deeper. “Now it’s up to us to work out the details.”
“That’s awesome, Kody.” She sits beside me, her hand resting on my knee. “What kind of details?”
“There are a lot of decisions to make.” He shifts his midnight eyes to Monty. “The biggest one is whether to trust Monty as my brother, let alone my investor.”
Spoken and unspoken accusations twist the air around us.
“I’m standing right here.” Monty crosses his arms. “Whatever’s on your mind, say it.”
“This distillery is my dream, but it’s also a huge risk.” Kody stares at the dark water ahead. “If you’re behind those messages, everything changes.”
“I’m the one taking the risk.”
“The financial risk,” I interject. “That’s not the only risk. If Kody goes down this road with you and you betray him, he can’t stay in business with you. All that hope you’ve given him…”
“It crushes, darling,” she whispers.
Damn you, Wolf.
My chest constricts.
Monty remains silent, his expression cryptic, but I see objections swirling in his eyes.
“It’s not just about the distillery.” Kody’s knuckles blanch on the wheel, his gaze never leaving the water. “The messages, the threats, the uncertainty. I need to know that you’re on our side.”
“I’ve done everything I can to protect this family.” Monty softens his tone. “But trust is earned, not given. I understand your doubts.”
“We have to give you a chance to prove yourself,” she says. “If you help us figure this out…”
“You have my word. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not the one behind this.” He turns to Kody. “I want to help you make your dream a reality. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”
“All right.” Kody’s grip on the wheel loosens. “We’ll work on this together—negotiating the terms for the distillery and hunting down the unknown number. But know this.” He levels his predatory eyes on Monty. “If I find out you had anything to do with those messages, I’ll rip your fucking spine out and clean my teeth with your bones.”
“Jesus.” She pinches his waist, making him grunt. “We’re not cannibals.”
“I’m killing him the way I want.” He faces forward again, grumbling, “And I’ll die on that hill.”
She sighs. “How about we all focus on…I don’t know… not dying?”
Monty presses a curled finger against his mouth, and I realize he’s holding back a smile. When he meets my eyes, I can’t help it. I laugh.
It’s the stress relief we need because, within seconds, we’re all grinning, including my sulky, caveman brother.
“Frankie, you should’ve seen Monty trying to teach us how to parallel park,” I say. “He couldn’t even do it himself.”
“It was a tight spot.” Monty exhales wearily.
I run my knuckle down her lower back. “What I’m hearing is you can’t handle tight spots.”
She chokes on her spit.
Wolf would’ve loved this. He had a knack for finding humor in the darkest moments.
“Rhett responded.” She squints at her phone. “He told a few of the nurses he was going to see me.” She groans. “They gossip. It’s kind of their thing. The entire hospital probably knew before he even left.”
Fuck. That means any person she worked with, all people from her past, could be a threat to her.
I know how badly she wants to reclaim her role as a trauma nurse and rebuild the pieces of her life that were fractured. But she can’t return to work yet. It’s not safe, and I fucking hate that for her.
As the conversation shifts back to our driving lessons, Kody recounts how I nearly smashed the Bentley into a tree. Monty merely shrugs, and Frankie listens intently, throwing in jabs about our recklessness.
As if she’s one to talk.
“Were you patient with them?” she asks Monty.
When he doesn’t answer, I nod. “Yeah. He’s a good teacher.”
That’s not saying much. Denver was patient and helpful throughout our upbringing. Until he wasn’t.
“Tell me about the flight school.” I meet Monty’s gaze.
He delves into the basics, explaining the types of pilot licenses, categories of aircraft, education, flight hours required, and advanced training. What he doesn’t mention is the cost.
“How much?” I ask.
“I’ll cover it.”
“How. Much?”
He rattles off the obscene price for basic flight school.
“No.” I suck in a breath. “I’m not a fucking leech. I already owe you—”
“You owe me nothing. The way I see it, I’m indebted to you.”
“How so?”
“You kept her alive in the Arctic Circle for nine months.”
“She did a damn fine job keeping herself alive.”
“No, I didn’t.” She dips her head. “A bear nearly ate me. I drowned in a lake. I sure as hell didn’t fly the plane that got us out of there.”
“I’m not taking his money, Frankie.”
“Here’s an option…” She taps her chin. “You and Kody can make some videos of you chopping wood with your shirts off. Think about it. A Viking and an Alaskan lumberjack. It would go viral and make a shitload of money.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Kody mutters.
“Liar. I’ve seen you scrolling for hours through videos.” I shake my head. “And the answer is no. We have more fucking pride than that.”
“Then accept Monty’s offer.” She crosses her arms.
“What if I told you it was your inheritance?” Monty lifts a brow. “Denver had money. Nearly as much as I have. It’ll be hung up in probate for a while, but not forever. You’re his only heir. It’s yours.” His eyes shift to Kody. “And Rurik’s fortune will go to you.”
Silence. Thick, poignant silence.
We hadn’t considered that.
“Where is Rurik’s money now?” Frankie asks.
“Tied up in offshore accounts.” Monty rubs his temple, looking exhausted. “I never touched it. Never tried. I want nothing to do with it.”
“It’s dirty money.” Kody frowns. “We don’t want it, either.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” She sits taller. “Monty didn’t touch it because he didn’t need it. You do .”
“She’s right.” I find her hand, my thumb gliding across her knuckles. “We’re in this position because of choices made by Denver and Rurik. The money may be dirty, but we earned it through every scar they inflicted on us. I see it as blood money.”
Kody exhales in reluctant agreement.
The rest of the ride passes in quiet introspection. As we approach the island, something akin to resolution circulates in my veins.
We have a plan—the distillery, flight school, protect Frankie, and depend on Monty until the inheritance comes in.
Is he the threat? I’m not so sure. But I can’t let that possibility linger without taking action.
If this is a trap, we’ll set a trap right back and use him in the process.
We need to create a situation where Monty thinks he has the upper hand, where he believes he can terrorize her without us knowing. If he takes the bait, we’ll have our answer.
I know exactly how we’ll do it.
“Threatening messages aside…” She leans her head on my shoulder, her eyes half-closed. “Today was a really good day.”
“Yeah.” As I rest my lips on her brow, my eyes connect with Monty’s. “It was.”