24. Anastasia
Anastasia
“ F or a woman who wants a secluded home, you sure get excited by flashing lights,” Rhett says.
We’re standing in Times Square, and I can’t help my gawking at how many screens and lights flood the space.
“I wouldn’t like to live here, but you have to admit, it’s an impressive spectacle,” I reply.
“Of a hundred advertisements killing our eyes through too-bright artificial light, yes.”
I roll my eyes, pulling him along to see more.
We’re seated in a fast-food restaurant half an hour later. Despite Rhett’s ranting about how bad the food is for me, it’s what I’m craving. The salty fries and over-greasy burger are delicious.
“So how do you always find me? Tracker on my phone or something?” I joke, taking a sip of my Pepsi.
Rhett eases a guilty smile and my eyes widen. I toss a fry at him and he chuckles.
“When?” I demand.
“When you gave me your phone that first day.”
This son of a bitch.
“Stalker,” I grumble.
Truthfully, there’s something twistedly wrong with me to be glad he always knows where I am. Especially now I know of the threat against me when I’ve been cluelessly wandering around as if I’m still nobody.
“Does my father know about the threat?” I ask.
“To you, yes. It’s why he’s been overprotective about your safety, but he never disclosed that to me, and I doubt any other guard would have known about it. Though I don’t think he’s figured out he’s the real target.”
“We should tell him.”
“Easy, little bird. We don’t make such decisions so abruptly.”
I tingle at the use of the word “we.”
“It’s his life at risk really. I’m just leverage. Plus, wouldn’t the secret service be a great help to ramp up the security at the tip-off of a live threat?”
I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of my father in danger. If anything happens to him ...
“They would, but how long will they keep it up before they decide to give the all-clear and relax the high protection detail? Whoever this is will wait it out. They won’t give this up so easily if they’ve tied themselves to Alistair Lanshall for it now. I think your father knows that.”
I hold in my wince at his uncle’s name. My anger shakes at the thought of him though I have no face. He hurt Rhett, made him suffer more than one person ever should in one lifetime, from when he was a child to killing his fiancée.
“What happened to your parents?” I ask quietly.
Rhett regards me with a sad smile. “They died when I was ten. Car accident. My uncle became my legal guardian.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Condolences will never be enough for what he’s been through.
I have to show him he’s worth far more than what life has dealt him.
That his purpose doesn’t begin and end under the judgment of Alistair Lanshall.
And that will take time. For now, all I can do is attempt to fill his life with some hopefully happy memories.
So I smile like a child as I ask, “Have you ever been ice-skating?”
Rhett is sour at my giddy mood while we equip our ice skates at the Rockefeller Center. I don’t let it dampen my excitement, because I’m determined to bring it out of him too. He just needs a little ... encouragement .
“Have you ever skated before?” Rhett asks, bending in front of me. He starts tying my other boot since he’s finished his.
“Just a little,” I say, a small lie. Riley and I go skating a few times every year. “For someone who never has, you’re swift at the equipment.”
“They’re merely boots with lethal weapons for balance.”
“Always looking for the danger.”
He squeezes my calf when he’s finished. “With you, always.”
I pat his shoulder before I stand. “At least try to look like you’re having fun.”
We waddle over to the ice, which is fairly quiet with only an hour until it closes. I skate on first, turning to find him watching me with a quirked brow, still off the ice.
“What?” I ask innocently. “It’s not as hard as it looks. Promise.”
“I don’t know how anyone thought standing on knives to glide across ice was a good idea,” he says.
“I imagine it has a history of something practical. For those of us who don’t live in arctic countries it’s called fun, Rhett. You need to try it sometime.”
I skate back to him, taking his hand, but he remains reluctant, eyeing the white floor with such wariness it’s highly amusing.
Rhett grips the ledge, taking his first step on, and when both his feet meet the ice I take his other hand to force him away from it.
He pins me with a look that says, “This is not a good idea.” I giggle at the sight of him, so stiff and gripping my hands so tightly as if it will prevent us from falling.
“Don’t worry, Agent, I’ll be your protector on the ice. Just copy my feet.”
“You’re going backward and I’m in awe of how you’re doing it.”
“Oh, right. Okay, let’s try this.”
Letting go of one of his hands, I skate forward a little, pushing one foot and then the other. To his credit, he’s a quick learner.
“Not so bad now, is it?” I beam as we begin making our way around.
“What do we do now?”
“We skate around the ring.”
“Then what?”
“We go around again.”
“Is that all?”
“Have you really never even seen people ice-skate before?”
Rhett shakes his head. “If I wasn’t indoors a lot as a kid, I was usually being used to smuggle something or create a diversion.
Then my life with Sarah ... I met her when I was twenty and we were both pretty busy.
She was in medical school and I was training a lot in my first year of SWAT with the intention of progressing to FBI. ”
I watch his face thoughtfully. “So you were always destined to be a super-sexy, badass agent then. Too bad I miss out on the uniform.”
He gives a light chuckle. “I suppose. I would have lived a life of stopping bad things legally, but my uncle made me realize there’s a world of abominable people like him that will always exist, and they can never be stopped the righteous way.”
I let go of his hand and skate in front of him, turning to go backward again.
“Righteous is overrated,” I say.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m corrupting you?”
“Perhaps I always have been like this.” I smile wickedly.
“I guess no one would expect an angel to buy a ticket to hell.”
I stop and panic crosses Rhett’s face, but I grab his black scarf, forcing the collision, and he wraps his arms around me tightly.
“When the devil came I couldn’t resist,” I purr up at him.
Rhett cups my cheek. “I’m a bad influence on you, Miss Kinsley.”
“Probably.”
I push onto the tips of my skates to kiss him. Only once before I push off him, giggling at his rocky balance as he catches himself.
“Bet you can’t catch me this time, Agent Kaiser.”
I’m truly exhausted by the time we pull our rental car into the hotel. I don’t fail to notice the plainclothes guard in the car behind us, and he certainly stands out as one with the way he acts and dresses, movie-style earpiece giving him away.
Rhett carries his bag and rolls my suitcase before handing the keys to the valet and taking my hand.
At the reception, the woman behind the desk does a poor job of hiding her attraction, her gaze roving over Rhett, not even sparing me a glance.
She hands him two key cards, and I realize then why she’s looking at him with such suggestion. We have separate rooms.
My stomach sinks the whole way up the twenty floors in the elevator.
At the first room he comes inside with me.
My breath catches as we wander to the far wall made up entirely of glass.
The city lights look like a kaleidoscope from up here.
The room is very tasteful, with neutral colors and a large bed, and a separate dining area and bathroom.
Rhett sets the bags down, and as I finish admiring the view I watch him pace the room, checking in every cupboard and even under the bed.
“Safe from monsters?” I quip when he seems satisfied with his checks.
“All but one,” he says.
I throw myself onto the bed and moan into the sinking embrace. Fatigue weighs on my eyelids.
“Your father booked the accommodation,” he says. “If you want me to use the other room?—”
“I don’t,” I cut in a little too quickly. It’s kind of pathetic how much I want him to stay.
His shoulders seem to relax at that. “Then I’m taking responsibility of making sure you get into pajamas before you fall asleep.”
Rhett pulls my suitcase over to me, but I groan with reluctance, rolling onto my side. I’m too damn comfortable.
I don’t expect Rhett to hook my knee and yank me down the bed. As I squeal with surprise he leans down to me.
“I’m not opposed to undressing you myself, of course, but it would take a different turn than you have the stamina for right now,” he says huskily.
Though my core heats at that, I really do want to sleep.
“I don’t think you know enough about my stamina to judge,” I say anyway.
“Don’t tempt me, Ana. I’m more than willing to exhaust you to your very limits to find out.”
I know if I pushed a fraction more he would hold true to that and there would be no stopping him. Because I’ll lose the will no matter how tired I am.
So I smile coyly and say nothing, pushing his chest to maneuver around him to my case.
After changing and slipping into bed, I’m reconsidering pushing out of my tiredness when Rhett comes strolling out the bathroom in nothing more than loose pajama pants sitting low on his hips. He’s an impeccable sight to behold no matter how many times I’ve witnessed him like this.
Tomorrow we’ll be meeting up with Liam, who said there’s a gathering happening at some highflier’s casino. Then it’s the gala the following night.
Rhett slips into bed beside me, and I erupt with the arm he extends in a silent invitation to tuck myself into him. It feels so right, frighteningly natural. With my head on his shoulder I begin idly tracing the scars on his chest.
“Were these during or after him?” I ask quietly.
“They were my rewards,” he says.
I angle my head back with a frown. Rhett’s expression doesn’t shift at all. He speaks of it like it’s nothing.
“Every time I completed a mission—usually smuggling—he would take a knife to my skin. He didn’t want me to be afraid of pain. He would say it’s the only true measure of success—that if I was prepared to take the pain for it, it was worth it.”
I become so angry I can hardly contain it. “What happened if you didn’t complete the mission?”
“There was a closet under his stairs he would lock me in for a week. So I would feel nothing at all, deprived of interaction and stimulation. You’d think that might be easier than a deep cut. It wasn’t.”
I kiss over his scars, along his neck. He sighs contentedly, hooking my leg over his abdomen.
“We’re going to find him,” I promise. He isn’t getting rid of me now.
“I would never wish for you to cross paths with him,” he says with a hint of fear. “I will do whatever it takes to prevent that.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be. You should be afraid of me , little bird. But more so of him, and the things you’ve only heard from me would traumatize you to see in person.
Promise me that if I let you in you won’t do anything reckless.
You won’t push when I tell you to stop. This is dangerous and fucked-up shit, and I’m only sorry you found out about it when I hoped you wouldn’t until I’m long gone out of your life. ”
I push up, angry with him. “You don’t get to run from me either.”
He cups my nape to pull me down for a kiss. “Sleep, Ana,” he murmurs against my lips.
Though my chest tightens with the lack of assurance he won’t leave me, I rest my head again, enjoying the comfort of him now.