Chapter 5 #2
Chuckling from the thought, I confirmed that the fridge was stocked with enough food I could eat like a king, and the pantry as well, the room larger than many bedrooms I’d seen.
Satisfied I wouldn’t go hungry, I returned to the living room, also impressed at the stereo system positioned against one wall.
My mom and dad had adored listening to records when we were growing up. Actual LPs. Their collection of music was inspiring. Maybe that’s why I selected my mother’s favorite classical but more contemporary artist, George Winston. His piano music was haunting, brilliant, and surreal.
Maybe it was exactly what I needed at this point to clear my head.
Or abate the vigilant, oppressive silence.
I stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning in a circle.
The space cried out for a massive twenty-foot fully decorated Christmas tree, swags of garland running across the stone mantel and around every doorway.
It was picture perfect like some sappy holiday card where family members gathered, all wearing the same ridiculous pajamas.
At least the tradition hadn’t caught on in our family. Instead of holly and mistletoe, there would have been gris-gris and other herbs to keep the demons at bay.
After taking a swig of my drink and depositing the glass on the coffee table, I yanked off my jacket and tie, tossing them aside.
The instant chill in the air reminded me once again of where I’d be spending several days.
Maybe four or five. After that, I’d convince Alexander I’d experienced an attitude adjustment.
Jesus Christ, it was freezing inside. A fire. That’s what I needed, a roaring fire in the big stone fireplace. Only there wasn’t any wood positioned in the holder. Somehow, I doubted it was a gas fireplace, which meant I’d need to look outside. And here I thought Bart had taken care of everything.
Before I had a chance to throw open the back door, my phone rang.
Another taunt, no doubt. “Don’t start with me, brother. I already can’t stand the place.”
Alexander’s chuckling snort caused me to roll my eyes. “I take it you’ve arrived.”
“Yeah. To snow. I hate snow. You know that.”
“As I said, it’ll do you good. You need to get some dirt under your fingernails.”
“Dirt? You mean ice. But yeah, I’m here.”
“Good. Glad to know you’re safe and sound. Did Bart fill up the fridge?”
“Yeah, Bart did. He also announced my arrival to the entire goddamn town.”
Hearing Alexander’s controlled laugh was typical. “How so?”
“Maybe not the entire town, but to one woman in particular who decided to make it her mission to drive me fucking nuts as soon as I arrived. But how am I supposed to blend in when your buddy Bart is telling the world I arrived?”
“A woman, eh?” He was finding it difficult to keep from laughing hard at my expense.
“Not what you think in the least. Some flake who chastised me for breathing.”
“I like her already.” His hesitation was typical just before he shifted the conversation into business. “Remember the safe room and ammunition supply in case you need it. Hopefully, you memorized the entrance code as well.”
His statement seemed as off as his tone. “Yeah, of course. What’s going on? Don’t lie to me. You suck at it, brother.”
“Fine. But what I’m about to tell you changes nothing. Do you understand?”
I gritted my teeth, remaining silent.
“I received quality information regarding the identity of your assailant.”
“Who is it?” I fisted my hand, more than eager to fucking kill the son of a bitch.
“If I tell you then you’re going to promise not to do anything stupid.”
“Talk.” You bet I was close to becoming disrespectful to my Don, but with the pain I’d endured, I was owed discovery.
“Grigor Pavlov. It would seem the Russians have reared their ugly head again. This time, we’re going to cut it off. Not that he’s anyone of importance that I can tell, which is why this entire situation concerns me.”
Meaning Grigor wasn’t a noted member of the Barishnikoff Bratva, a New Orleans nemesis we’d managed to strong-arm before.
“Then I’m headed back.” I was deadly serious. The Russians were utter pigs.
“Not a chance. You’re staying put, especially now. No vigilante justice. Do you understand? You have a target on your back and until I figure out what we’re dealing with, I don’t need your interference. Do not dare try and tell me you won’t tear apart the city to find this guy. I know better.”
Anger breached the surface to the point I was seeing spots in front of my eyes. “I deserve to be on the hunt.”
“Not now. Heal. That’s your current job. Do not cross me on this. I’ll provide you with additional information when it’s confirmed. If I see your face in New Orleans, I’ll have you locked in a goddamn jail cell.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” In learning to follow my instincts, I could spot a liar a hundred feet away so on the phone was a piece of cake.
His sigh was yet another confirmation that he wasn’t interested in providing me with every aspect about the situation. “By way of our computer experts, a job listing was found on the dark web, posted on an extreme Russian site.”
Every muscle in my body tensed. “What did it entail?”
“Murder for hire. Want to guess the mark?”
Exhaling, I rubbed my eyes, the ache behind them more intense than the days after the shooting. “When was it posted?”
“A week ago. While the first attempt was foiled, likely handled locally, the last line of the offer is an indication of how far they’re willing to go.”
“What did it say?”
Alexander’s deep breath was full of aggravation. “That the offer stood until the job was done.”
Why the Russians would come out swinging with me as a target might be unknown, but their desire to see me dropped straight into hell wasn’t.
My death would be a decent distraction, which was exactly what had happened with our father’s murder.
“Fine. I’ll stay here. For now.”
“Good. I’d hate to need to send several soldiers to keep you in line.”
With the call ended, I glared at the stereo system, cringing deep inside. This would be one hell of a difficult week.
What the fuck?
The sound dragged me from a fitful sleep.
There was nothing wrong with my reflexes as I immediately reached for my weapon.
In doing so, the force used slammed my hand against a hard object.
Just before it shattered, I blinked, managing to drag myself from the light fog enough to realize I’d knocked my whiskey glass to the floor.
Another sound and I snapped my head forward. Someone was at the front door. What the hell? Who the fuck knew I was here? Shit. Maybe Bart had stopped by to see if I needed anything.
What time was it?
My eyesight still blurry, focusing my eyes enough to read the time on my watch proved difficult. When I managed, I groaned. Eight in the morning. Fucking fantastic.
The visitor had to be the goddamn man who’d opened up the place.
Bart was relentless, the third pound on the door irritating.
I threw my feet onto the floor, careful to avoid the broken glass.
As soon as I stood, I could see a figure shifting back and forth.
The one aspect of the house I couldn’t stand was the placement of almost clear glass panes flanking the thick wooden double door.
That would need to change.
The aggravation had spiraled onto an entirely different precipice by the time I reached the door.
While the last thing I needed or wanted was company, by now the unwanted visitor had undoubtedly seen me.
I was almost amused that I’d even considered hiding in my own house. Since when had that ever happened?
A jolt of pain in my leg forced me to stop after a few feet so I could massage my thigh. Like I was supposed to do every few hours to increase the blood flow.
I’d be damned if the visitor didn’t pound a fourth time.
Hobbling forward, I threw open the door, forgetting I had the weapon in my hand.
Of all the people I’d expected to see, the woman with attitude from the day before wasn’t it.
Worse than seeing her standing on my front porch was the way she was looking at me, scrutinizing every aspect of my being. With her nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed, she swept her gaze all the way to my bare feet. Was she criticizing me again?
What I hadn’t noticed the day before were the freckles dotting her nose. They were adorable and a feature I’d never cared for on any woman I’d dated. On her, they added to her youthful appearance and simple sensuality.
And what was wrong with my brain?
While I shouldn’t be thinking of her as anything but an unwanted annoyance, the way the wind was shifting her long strands of hair across her rosy cheeks was far too appealing.
Enough so, I felt an even more pronounced twinge of desire in my cock.
Where yesterday she’d worn her hair in a long braid, the free flow today framed her heart-shaped face and luscious full lips. Goddamn, she was a vision of beauty.
The moment was awkward, especially when she noticed the weapon tightly fisted in my hand. While her eyes initially opened wide, she certainly didn’t seem as frightened as most people would be in confronting a man with a gun.
Her mouth twisted, her eyes pinpricks of accusations. I realized I had the barrel pointed at her chest. Her breathing resumed only after I’d lowered my arm, flicking the safety and shoving the Glock into the waistband of my trousers.
Just as I finally opened my mouth to tell her to leave, or maybe to offer an excuse for pulling a gun on her, she jumped ahead of me.
“Mr. Prince. I know I just stopped by and it’s early, but I’m working all day and knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I didn’t come to your house and apologize for my atrocious behavior.
See, this isn’t the best time of year for me.
I mean business is going great and overall, I’m happy, but this day on the calendar, I mean the actual date is one I’d rather shove straight to hell.
Even the days leading up to it fry my sense of humanity.
However, there isn’t a good enough excuse for the way I treated you yesterday.
Even if you did come off as an arrogant bastard. Here. I brought you a peace offering.”
Very slowly I lowered my gaze from the twinkle in her eyes to what she was holding in her hands.
“They’re blueberry streusel muffins and a thermos of Brazilian hazelnut coffee with a twist of cinnamon.”
I was clueless how to react, so like some fucking idiot, I did my best impression of a statue.
“Wait a minute. Are you thinking I poisoned them?” Her tone was haughtier than the day before.
Dear God, the woman was brash. She’d also managed to catch me off guard.
No one brought me baked goods. Not even my own family, save for Emmeline when she was insistent I try a new bakery item from our bistro.
What also struck me was that no one in my life had ever left me speechless.
This woman had managed one too many feats in less than twenty-four hours.
I allowed my gaze to move from concentrating on her soft lips to her snow-covered boots, smirking when I did. Who the hell wore a skirt with snow boots? And why was the look adorable on her? Including the wildly colorful design.
She rolled her eyes, bending down and placing the items two inches from my feet.
As soon as she stood, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, revealing the long line of her neck.
“Eat them. Don’t eat them. That’s your choice.
So you know, I made them with my own two hands, sans the hemlock.
” She took a step away. “Oh, and when you’re done, you can bring the plate and my favorite thermos to my store Sunlight and Sparkles.
I’ll be the chick holding the hemlock bottle in her hand. ”
With that, she stormed off my porch, her long legs pumping. Within seconds, she was inside her beat-up truck with the engine started.
And just like that, seconds later freshly fallen snow sprayed across both sides of the driveway as she floored the gear in reverse.
While I watched the taillights until they faded into the distance, all I could think about was who the hell was the woman who’d sparked something deep, dark, and sadistic within me; the kind of desire for filth that had my balls hanging low and my cock pressing painfully against my zipper.
And I didn’t even know her name.