Chapter 22
Montgomery
Snowflakes whirled around the swell of trees, a dance of wistfulness against the waning light.
The day certainly hadn’t gone as I’d planned, but the necessity of change was something I was used to dealing with. Granted, not usually with a passenger in tow, but I’d learn to adapt.
Especially since my traveling companion was as resourceful as she was beautiful. In the years I’d been on this earth, I’d experienced various people who’d come to my aid. But almost always, they came from my inner circle, most required to do so.
Soldiers trained to take a bullet if necessary.
Teachers instructed that the Prince children were royalty.
Employees who’d drop everything if any of us snapped our fingers, not that I’d made a habit of doing so.
Even other family members. We’d been taught from the time we were small children how important being involved in each other’s lives would be. Often to the detriment of privacy.
But an entire town literally giving the shirts off their backs, cash from their wallets, and a vehicle that I had a feeling could withstand the apocalypse was on an entirely different plane of existence.
I’d never been faced with needing the generosity of others.
They’d given us a brown bag full of cash like we were criminals on the run and a hunting knife, for fuck’s sake.
Did the people believe I’d gone anywhere without a weapon?
I snorted inwardly at the thought. However, their sentiments were heartfelt, making it obvious the legacy my father had left on the entire town.
In all the years I’d known my father, his acts of charity had been more about improving our reputation and tax write-offs, not given out of the goodness of his heart.
Or so I’d believed.
Heartache was a luxury allowed more traditional families. The lessons taught in early childhood had included how best to deal with a sense of loss. I hadn’t cried after learning the news about my father. Had I felt some sense of loss? Yes, but within days life was back to normal.
If that was the case, then why was it that I was missing him more on this dark evening than even when attending his funeral? Fleur. Watching her despair blossom like a silent killer, stripping her of the joyous, bubbly personality that had both annoyed and intrigued me.
I was more possessive than ever.
I wasn’t well equipped for expressing gratitude, which thoroughly annoyed Fleur. I’d deal with the aftermath later.
Now it was about interrogating the person the sheriff had captured. Which in and of itself was unusual.
“You can’t handle this like you normally would.” Hearing Fleur’s voice right behind me brought another wave of protectiveness.
“You don’t listen. I told you to remain at the house.”
“All alone? What if another bastard appeared?”
Turning abruptly, she stumbled into me, pressing her soft hands against my chest. Her eyes were full of questions and with her lips pursed, she appeared more vulnerable than usual. “Then stay back. Okay? While I know you can’t understand and certainly aren’t accepting, this is my world.”
“No, this isn’t your world. This is their world and they’re not only welcoming you into it, they’re offering you a permanent residency, at least in their hearts. You need to act accordingly.”
I shifted hair from her face. “You’re offering me advice on how to handle people now?”
“I am. You’re a rough and tumble guy, but with few people skills.”
“I’ll take that under advisement. Now, stay here. Do not disobey me again.”
She took a decided step away, saluting.
Exhaling, I returned to my task, finding the sheriff and three other men surrounding the captured perpetrator. And I’d be damned if they didn’t have the guy strung up like a turkey against a huge tree. He was bound in rope, the thick strand also wrapped around his neck.
I had to give them credit. They weren’t lightweights in dealing with armed men.
“Mr. Prince. You know Bart. That’s Sam and Tom. The asshole won’t talk. No identification. But he was carrying this.”
The sheriff held out a small caliber handgun, one I knew well. The Beretta 71 was a .22, often carried by intelligent agents or assassins for hire. I had two just like it at home. I took it from his hand, twisting it in mine as if needing to get a feel.
Then without hesitation, I pressed the barrel against the assassin’s head.
“Vash pakhan budet ochen’ razocharovan.” While I had no expectations that the man with the scar under his right eye would provide me with an explanation or names, I’d used an old trick taught by my father to find truths without the perpetrator uttering a word.
In this case, speaking to him in Russian, a language I’d studied in high school and college for the very intent and purpose of knowing thy enemy. And my ruse had worked. I could tell by the quick twitch in the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly what I’d said to him.
Your Pakhan will be highly disappointed.
And he would be.
“He speaks Russian too,” Bart said. “This asshole was definitely casing the house.”
“I appreciate you hunting him down for me, Bart,” I told him. “You certainly don’t need cockroaches in your beautiful town.”
The assassin shifted his eyes away from me as if that would really keep down the violence. I gripped his face with enough pressure the pain was evident.
“If I were you, son, I’d try not to piss this man off,” the sheriff told him. “He has a dangerous reputation.”
When the assassin spit toward the sheriff, barely missing him, I smashed the weapon against his face. “Now, you’ll spit blood. What are your orders?”
The fucker knew both languages, grinning as soon as I asked the question.
“Chtoby unichtozhit’ neskol’ko tarakanov.”
Clever. “To erase a few cockroaches”.
I gripped his face again, jerking on his jaw until his mouth was wide open. At least he was afraid of death as evidenced when I shoved the .22 into his mouth.
A few meant killing two birds with one stone was now on the plate. It was a confirmation that my beautiful companion faced the same consequences as I was supposed to face.
One of the other men whistled, but I sensed out of appreciation for my tactics.
“Now, I realize you’re just getting paid to do a job, one that doesn’t afford you any choices, but the one made for you.
Kill or be killed. However, I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.
Find a new profession. Oh, and one other thing.
Call it a bonus.” I kept the weapon in his mouth, pushing the hard, cold steel until his jaws were stretched wide open.
“Pereday svoyemu pakhanu, chtoby on sam za mnoy prishol. YA budu zhdat’. ”
Tell your Pakhan to come for me himself. I’ll be waiting.
His eyes flashed in return. Now I was just wasting time, but the bait had been set.
There wasn’t a Russian pig in charge who didn’t accept a challenge presented on a silver platter.
I’d lived after several attempts made on my life.
Now he’d be pissed. I pulled the weapon free, wiping it on my jeans before handing it to the sheriff.
“You won’t need this?” he asked.
Chuckling, I threw the Russian another quick look. “Don’t worry, sir. I carry an arsenal with me.” I turned away, laughing softly to myself as the fucker muttered words about how I’d soon be begging to die.
He had no idea what I was made of.
As I headed toward my lovely flower, I could tell she was relieved if not somewhat impressed.
“What do you want me to do with him, Mr. Prince? He did try and take your life.”
“Sheriff. Maybe you haven’t dealt with Russians before but I’m going to venture a guess you have dealt with New Yorkers and even attorneys. Sometimes the best thing to do is to allow the folks who come to collect him know just helpful he’s been.”
He laughed and clapped me on the arm. “I think I hear what you’re saying. We’ll take care of him during his stay and make certain we issue glowing reviews when he leaves.”
“Glad to hear. Just try and keep him for a few days.”
“That I can promise. We’ll find the other one too.”
I hoped so. At minimum, the one who’d gotten away would have a good sense we were leaving town. I’d need to be extremely cautious of the route and where we stopped for some rest.
When I was within a few inches from the beautiful woman, she offered a more rebellious look. A wonderful indication that her resolve was returning. At least for now.
“Prezhde chem umeret’, ty nasladish’sya zrelishchem togo, chto ya delayu s takoy krasavitsey. Ona budet krichat’ moyo imya vmesto tvoyego, poka ya yeyo trakhayu. Skoro ona vernetsya domoy, tuda, gde yey samoye mesto.”
My neck cracked as soon as the words left his filthy mouth. Fleur sensed whatever he’d spouted off had set me off. If it hadn’t been for her long fingers wrapping so tightly around my wrist, the man would be gutted like the pig he truly was.
My thoughts drifted to my father once again. In the sense of being a typical dad taking his kids to football practice or even going to mandated school meetings, he’d been a terrible father. He’d missed birthdays and even a couple of Christmas dinners because of business.
Where I’d once hated him for not being a normal father, whatever the hell that meant, now I was truly beginning to appreciate all that he had taught me over the years.
When in the throes of battle, even something as insignificant as what had just occurred was often the best form of interrogation.
The assassin’s word vomit had been a perfect example:
Before you die, you’re going to enjoy watching what I do to such a beautiful woman. She’ll be calling my name instead of yours while I fuck her.
But I didn’t need to worry. As soon as I heard a savage thud, Fleur gasped and I glanced over my shoulder. I had to give Bart credit. In one swing of his fist, he’d managed to break the asshole’s nose.
Bart shook his head, shrugging as he did. “He’s an annoying fuck.”
“That he is.”