Sophie Oak - Found in Bliss

“Excellent. My name is Lieutenant Meyer. I’ll be your rescuer today. This rescue of your person is brought to you by the United States Navy and SEAL Team 8. We hope you have a nice rescue, and please feel free to fill out the questionnaire at the end of the trip. Tips are welcome.”

Lieutenant Meyer had a strong sense of snark.

“Sorry, my CO says my sarcasm will get me killed one day. Let’s get you out of here while they’re too drunk to notice we’re leaving. And you can just call me Wolf.”

Lieutenant Wolf Meyer put a hand out and hauled him up. It was the first human contact he’d had in months that didn’t cause him to shrink back.

Twelve hours later, he was on a plane back to the States, the knowledge deep in his heart that he would never feel at home again. They could take him to the States, but he’d left his soul behind.

* * *

Moscow, Russia

Eight months ago

Alexei Markov stared at his partner, Ivan, his mind not quite processing the news.

“We leave for America tomorrow,” Ivan said. He slapped at the small table they sat at, nearly disrupting the vodka shots in front of them.

“America?” He said the word, tasting it on his tongue. It was bittersweet. Even all these years later, he could still remember his brother, Mikhail, talking about how their lives would be when they made it to America. Back then, Alexei had dreams of becoming a professional hockey player. Those dreams died when Dimitri Pushkin had his brother killed. A new dream had been born that day. A dark dream.

“Don’t you see? This means we’re moving up. If Pushkin trusts us to handle his American business, it won’t be long before we’re his right-hand men.” Ivan was grinning, though no amount of mirth could make the man look happy. Ivan looked like what he was—a stone-cold killer.

Is that what he would look like years from now, after he’d had his revenge? The longer he pursued this path, the more he questioned himself.

No. He was too close to his goal. He would not give it up because he had suddenly developed a conscience. Ivan was right. It was good that they had been selected to go to America. It meant he was one step closer to standing in a room with Pushkin and delivering his brother’s revenge.

“What are we supposed to do?” Pushkin had many business interests in the United States. He had dealings with mobsters, drug lords, politicians. All of the disgusting bottom-feeders.

Ivan snorted. “We have to pick up a painting and bring it back. We’re supposed to meet with someone in Dallas. How funny is that? We can go and be cowboys.”

Pick up a painting? That sounded far too simple. “Something sounds wrong.”

“You worry too much, Alexei. Nothing is wrong. The boss likes paintings. He’s always trying to impress people. I don’t understand it. I wouldn’t pay for a painting a child could do. Have you seen the man who puts paints on his pig’s feet? He has the pig run across the canvas and then sells it as art? Most of the pig’s work is better than the stuff the boss collects.”

Alexei had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Ivan wasn’t the most cultured of men. “Is this painting by someone famous?”

“How am I supposed to know? All that matters is that Pushkin wants the painting. We’re to get it and deliver it to him ourselves.” He slapped at the table again. “I’m telling you, Alexei. This is our time. We will meet with the man himself. A private interview. You’re good with people. I’ll handle the killing. You can handle Pushkin.”

Alexei leaned forward. So far he had managed to work his way up in the organization with fairly clean hands. He’d killed mobsters, of course. Many. Each one had been a killer in his own right. He worried that to move into the inner circle, he would have to take innocent blood. The thought brought bile to his throat. “Why would there be killing when all we have to do is pick up a painting?”

“There is always killing, my friend.” Ivan hoisted his glass. “Drink with me, Alexei. To America, where our dreams come true.”

His dreams had died long ago. The need for revenge was the only thing that pushed Alexei Markov forward now. He picked up his glass. Long ago, he and his brother had talked about the women they would marry in America. He’d been young, but he’d dreamed of a lovely American bride, with a sweet smile and soft, feminine ways. Silly dreams. He wouldn’t have that woman.

America wasn’t his home. He no longer had one.

The lights of the party seemed to flare and focus like a spotlight on the man in front of him. Like he needed anything to highlight the disaster happening right in front of his face. He felt his heart seize, a cardiac episode just waiting to happen. Acute myocardial infarction. Yep. That was what was happening. He was about to have a fucking heart attack, and he knew just who to blame.

“No.” He said the word. He said it a lot, but this time he really, really meant it. Caleb Burke watched as that big Russian stood over sweet Holly, his dark eyes promising all manner of comfort, and he just knew he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Of course, he also wasn’t ready to take her.

Fuck.

“No?” Alexei turned to him, seeming to notice for the first time that he wasn’t alone with Holly. The Russian had walked into the reception hall where Stefan Talbot and his new wife, Jennifer, were hosting their wedding party. He’d marched in like he owned the place and zeroed in on Holly.

Alexei looked the same as he had months before, but it was easy to tell he had changed. There was a relaxed set to his shoulders he hadn’t had the last time he was in Bliss. But then the last time Alexei Markov had been in Bliss, it had been as a member of the Russian mob.

“Get your hands off her.”

“My hands are entirely to myself.” And Alexei still had trouble with English.

“Caleb, what’s wrong?” Holly asked, her face turning to him. Wide green eyes stared up at him in confusion. She was so gorgeous. Every time she looked at him, he felt it straight in his gut. And his cock. Damn it. He had to turn away from her.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Caleb couldn’t take his eyes off the Russian. It was nothing less than the truth, though he had selfish reasons for pointing it out. “You’re supposed to be in witness protection.”

Alexei shrugged, his eyes going back to Holly as though her very presence was a magnet he couldn’t avoid. “I told you. The trials are over. All the men who worked with Pushkin have been put in the proper jails. I finish my testimony last week. I am here today. I am free man.”

Free? After everything he’d done? Alexei Markov had blown into town eight months before as a mobster. Just because he’d turned state’s witness and saved Jennifer Waters and Callie Hollister-Wright didn’t give him a free pass. He tried not to think about the fact that the Russian had saved Holly, too. He’d thrown his own body over hers, taking the bullet that would have ended her life. It didn’t erase the crimes he’d committed before. “You killed a bunch of people, and they just let you go free?”

“He only killed them to save me, Caleb. And Stef got a couple, too. No one’s talking about putting him in jail.” Holly was already reaching for the Russian’s hands, her face turning upward in greeting. “I’m so happy for you, Alexei. I’m happy they let you come back to Bliss.”

A little cloud crossed Alexei’s face telling Caleb everything he needed to know.

“They didn’t let you come back, did they?” Caleb asked. “You’re on the run.”

“No running. I take taxi and then train and then bus. Bus drop off at the Trading Post. It was closed, but Ms. Teeny was kind enough to leave note on door telling me about the wedding.” After his quick explanation, Alexei turned back to Holly. “You look like beautiful doll, Holly.”

Caleb grabbed at his tie. He loosened it. The damn thing was a noose around his neck. Why had he come to this thing? He should have done what he always did. He should have stayed at home until someone needed him. He should have barricaded himself in his office and stared at medical books until his eyes wouldn’t stay open one second more and he was forced to fall into that hell he called sleep. Yeah, that would have made for a great night. But no, he’d gotten on this monkey suit and headed to the Feed Store Church to attend a wedding, all because he’d wanted to watch Holly walk down the aisle. He’d wanted to see her in a beautiful dress and imagine just for one second that she was walking toward him and he was normal. That he was twenty-two again, marrying the right woman this time with his whole life ahead of him.

Not once in that little daydream had he included a second man in the scenario, though given where he lived, he should have known that would happen whether he liked it or not.

“Thanks,” Holly said to Alexei, her face lighting up.

Caleb flushed. He hadn’t told her she was beautiful. He’d just nodded at her. Why couldn’t he talk to her? He’d been good at this once. He’d gone to parties and balls. Why couldn’t he talk to one small-town waitress?

Because she was the one, but he was too fucked up to deal with it.

“You do look really pretty.” He forced the words out of his mouth. He didn’t say the ones that were locked inside. She didn’t look pretty. She was beautiful. Inside and out. Holly Lang practically glowed in Caleb’s mind. With auburn hair that curled and caressed her porcelain shoulders, Holly was a vision of everything feminine. She stirred his cock and his mind. He thought about her all the time.

Yeah. He wasn’t going to say any of that.

Holly turned toward him, a vibrant smile on her lips. When she smiled that sunshine-goddess, center-of-his-whole-fucking-world smile, he always thought he would just turn into a puddle of goo at her feet. Yeah. That would be really sexy, Burke.

“Tell her more, Caleb. You do well.” Alexei was smiling at him like he was a toddler who’d just managed to walk.

What the hell was that about?

“Alexei!” Stefan Talbot strode forward looking resplendent in his tux. He wore a broad smile on his face.

Alexei turned and smiled back, his face opening in a way that belied his years. Caleb knew that Alexei was twenty-eight years old, but when he smiled, he looked barely twenty.

“I’m so glad to see you, my friend. Did the paperwork get pushed through?” Stef pumped Alexei’s hand in greeting.

“The papers are all pushed. I soon will be as American as the pie with many apples. I will pass my test. I know all of American history. Ask me anything. I love the Constitution and Bill of Rights. I can sing whole preamble to Constitution.”

“I sent him a copy of Schoolhouse Rock to help out,” Jen Talbot said, sliding her hand into her husband’s. “I bet he can sing all about lonely bills, too.”

“Indeed, I can.” Alexei bowed slightly to the bride.

“Stef, you helped Alexei get his citizenship?” Holly asked.

“You must have paid through the nose for that, Talbot,” Caleb said, well aware bitterness was dripping from every word. “There’s a nice long wait usually.”

“The government was very happy with all the help Alexei gave them with organized crime,” Stef explained. “I only had to grease the wheels a little.”

“Well, hell,” a new voice said. “Alexei. Did the aliens finally let you go? They kept you for an awfully long time.”

Mel Hughes stood in the middle of the dance floor looking utterly incongruous in a white polyester tux that had to have been handed down from the Bee Gees. Of course, he couldn’t be without his lucky trucker hat and the tinfoil that kept the aliens from attacking his brain. Mel was a kook, but a lovable one. He only went slightly insane a couple of times a year, and Caleb had tranquilizer darts perfectly dosed for Mel’s height and weight. He kept them in his truck. He’d thought about using them on Max Harper from time to time, but he worried it would take more than horse tranquilizer to change Max’s attitude.

“No aliens, sir. Only Federal Marshals.” Alexei moved closer to Holly, stepping in like he was her date. “They were very kind to me.”

Mel’s face crinkled, but he shook his head and patted Alexei on the back. “I’m real glad to hear that, son. Now, can I talk to you, Doc? We got an emergency.”

Caleb felt a part of him relax. Thank god. Someone was dying, so he didn’t have to deal with his suddenly out-of-control love life. He looked over at Holly.