Sophie Oak - One to Keep

“Holly Lang! Everyone’s been looking for you. Damn it, where have you been?” Logan took the bag from her hands, frowning at her.

Holly. Alexei wished the floor would open up underneath him and swallow him whole. Sweet, sexy Holly was here, and he was behind bars. It wasn’t the way he wanted her to see him. Oh, he knew there was no way he could have any sort of a relationship with her, but she’d flirted with him and shown him her kind nature.

She shrugged out of her coat and stomped her boots on the mat in front of the door to get the snow off them. Her pretty green eyes were on Logan as she replied. “My evil ex managed to forget to tell me Nicky was going on a retreat with his high school band. Jerk. I only get to see him every other week. He knows how far I have to drive, but does he call?” Her face was tight for a moment, but she smiled, obviously throwing off her anger. “But I got to talk to him on the phone. He’s doing so well. He made the honor roll.”

“That’s great. While you were gone, two people died and there was a shooting and a stolen painting, and guess who has the key to the mystery?”

Holly had gone very still. “Died?”

“Yep, murders. It’s been a regular CSI episode around here, except without the bad jokes. Every time I tried to make one, or dramatically take off my sunglasses, Sheriff slapped me upside the head.”

“I’m about to do the same thing, Logan. Who got killed? Dear god, why didn’t someone tell me? Stella was crying when I got in today.” Holly looked like she was about to cry, too. It ate at Alexei that he’d had a hand in that.

Logan placed his hands on her shoulders. “It was a tourist.

Everyone in town is fine. And Stella’s been crying a lot lately. My moms think she’s going through the change. I don’t know what that means. I try to avoid all talk about feminine parts with my moms.”

“So two tourists died?”

“One tourist, and some Russian dude who was trying to kill Jen and Callie.”

“Oh, my god! I leave for twenty-four hours and this is what happens? I think I met the Russian guy. He seemed so nice.”

“It was not me,” Alexei said. “It was partner, Ivan. He was not so nice.”

Holly turned, noticing him for the first time. “Hello.” Her voice sounded awfully small now that she realized she wasn’t alone with Logan.

“Hello.”

“I remember you from the diner the other day. You took the Farley twins out. They couldn’t stop talking about how nice you were.” She smiled at him, her face lighting up. “What did you do?

Jaywalking? Nate can come up with a lot of reasons to toss a tourist in the clink, but usually it’s just because he’s in a foul mood. I’m afraid our sheriff is a bit of a character. He only narrowly avoided losing to a rubber duck in the last election. What was your name again?” Logan gestured to the cell Alexei stood in. “That’s Alex Something Russian. He’s a member of the Russian mob, and he’s looking for a painting his boss had Jen’s old boss steal for him.”

“Really? So he’s an actual criminal?” Holly looked between the deputy and Alexei as though trying to discern if someone was joking.

“Yeah, but it seems he’s reformed. He took out the other fellow and saved Callie and Jen and Callie’s baby.” Holly’s startled shout echoed though the small building. “Callie’s pregnant? Did I miss a newsletter? Damn it. I hate not having a phone. I had to use the Evil Ex’s to talk to Nicky. The minute I can afford it, I’m getting a cell phone.” Alexei’s attention shifted. There was a small group of men walking across the street. He couldn’t see them clearly yet, but they stood out. While everyone else was casual, there was a certain formality about these men that had Alexei staring. They wore black coats in a sea of colorful, fun parkas.

Logan continued to talk to Holly, poking at her like an annoying younger brother. “Yes, that would have been helpful since you’re the one who knows who has the painting everyone is looking for.” A cold chill went through Alexei’s body. Was that? Dear god, that looked like Luka. Luka was one of Pushkin’s top men.

“I do?”

Luka turned and pointed at the same building that housed Alexei.

Bile bit at the back of his throat. The phone. His phone had gone off all night. It hadn’t bothered Logan, but the trill had awoken Alexei several times.

Logan pointed toward the cell. “This guy came to town looking for a stolen painting. Apparently Jen’s boss in Dallas hid it. It’s behind one of the paintings Jen gave you to sell. The one for Rachel.

You sold it to someone, but we can’t read the receipt.”

Now Alexei could see that Luka had two other men with him, Nikolai, Luka’s brother, and Pushkin himself. His hands tightened around the bars. Pushkin had come after the painting. Alexei knew Ivan had called in and told Luka where they were going, but he’d never imagined that Dimitri Pushkin would come himself.

“Oh, well, that was—”

“Is that my food?” Alexei interrupted them with a short bark. He had seconds to decide what to do. A plan flashed through his brain. It was probably a terrible plan, but it was all he could come up with.

The three men were moving with purpose toward the office. There was no time. If they walked in, they would simply kill anyone in their way. At least this way they had a chance.

Logan picked up the Styrofoam container and walked toward the bars. “I think it’s pancakes and sausage.” The minute the deputy was in reach, Alexei reached out and grabbed him by the neck. He heard Holly gasp. The tall deputy didn’t weigh much. It was easy to haul him close and grab the gun out of his holster. Alexei turned him quickly, pulling his back against the bars.

He wrapped an arm around the deputy’s neck. He could break it if he wasn’t very careful.

“I need you to be listening. There are very bad men be coming in.

They will kill you both unless you do this right.”

“Yeah, well, I’m getting the feeling you’re the one who is going to kill me.” Though his voice was steady, it was soft. A fine tremble went through the younger man. “You get out of here, Holly.”

“Don’t. If you run, they will stop you. They will be here in seconds.” He softened his hold but didn’t let Logan go. There wasn’t time to run. They crossed the street, moving ever forward, snaking through the crowd toward their destination. “You cannot to tell where painting is. If you tell, you die.”

“Fine. If I don’t tell?”

“You be beaten very badly.” He would be tortured, and Alexei would have to watch until he could gain the advantage.

“Why should I trust you?” The question came from between gritted teeth.

Alexei put his heart and soul into his reply. He had to make Logan believe him. “Please to trust. Please, I can’t…I can’t take more killings. I will help as soon as I can, but there are three of them and one of me. I will have to go with them for while. But help will come.

It will.”

There was no time to get Holly out. She stood staring at them, terror in her eyes. He had to deal with her, too. Pushkin was at the door. Alexei could hear the outer doors open. In a moment, they would be inside, and he wouldn’t be able to explain.

“I need you to listen, Holly. I want to see you safe. You must to take the gun. Hold it on the deputy like you are trying to get me out.

You are my ho.”

Her spine snapped to attention, and her green eyes flashed. She took the gun from him anyway. When their fingers touched, Alexei felt a jolt of connection. “I am so not your ho.”

“You must pretend. If you are mine then they will not rape your body and slit your throat.”

Logan nodded, his head tapping against the bars. “I think you should be his ho, Holly.”

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.” She held the gun out, her hands trembling.

The door opened, and Luka walked in first, with Pushkin behind him.

“It took you long enough.” Alexei switched to Russian. “I was beginning to believe you would leave me to rot.” Pushkin surveyed the room while Nikolai bolted the door. “I suspected something had gone wrong when neither you nor Ivan would answer the phone. Ivan told me you were having difficulties. I do not like difficulties, so I come myself. I’m not happy, Alexei. The trip was horribly long, and we had to drive through a storm. Where is Ivan? And who is the girl?”

“Mine. The girl is mine.” He brought his arm back through the bars, freeing Logan, who slumped to the floor as though overwhelmed. “Holly, dearest, you can put the gun down now. These are my friends. I told you about them.” He sent a silent prayer that she would be able to play along. They were locked in with men who wouldn’t think twice about raping and killing her. Nikolai was prowling around the room, looking for anyone else they might have missed. He was too close to Holly for Alexei’s comfort.

The gun came down at her side. “Does this mean we can get out of here, baby?”

Luka reached down and hauled Logan to his feet. “You open the door and let my friend out.”

Logan stumbled a bit as he dug into his pocket for the keys. His eyes came up and met Alexei’s. There was a wary plea in his eyes, but there was strength there, too. The deputy was young, but a stubborn will lit him now.

The cell swung open, and Alexei grabbed Logan by his shirt, pulling him forward savagely. He brought him close and whispered.

“Survive. Tell them you know nothing. I won’t leave you, but you must survive.”

“Just get Holly out.”

Alexei let his voice rise as he shoved Logan back. “I promise, you swine.”

The other Russians laughed.

“Did this skinny thing give you trouble, Alexei?” Luka asked, his Russian dark and thick with menace.

“He’s like all pigs. Police are the same everywhere.” Alexei stalked out of the cage and slid an arm around Holly, pulling her close. He slid the gun from her hand to his, the weight a welcome burden. He was armed. He would find a way. Patience. But first, he had to get to the bad part. “Ivan is dead.”

A loud curse filled the room. “How?” Pushkin grunted the question.

“I can guess.” Nikolai brought his booted foot out and kicked the deputy squarely in the gut.

Alexei’s arm tightened around Holly as she stiffened. He saw how she bit back a cry. This would be hard on her. He pressed her face into his chest. “It wasn’t this cop. It was the sheriff. Ivan was foolish. He killed a girl and didn’t do a good job hiding the body. The police came after us, and Ivan pulled his gun. I knew I could escape with Holly’s help. I thought it was better to stay alive.” Pushkin was circling Logan like a shark playing with its food.

“Where is this sheriff?”

Logan’s throat worked up and down. “At the festival. He won’t be in today. I was only in because we have a prisoner.” A predatory smile crept across Pushkin’s face. “I noticed you have closed sign on your door. That is quaint…and very helpful to us. Tell me something, Alexei. Do you know where the painting is?” This was the bad part. Alexei’s gut felt tight as he did what he had to do. “I don’t, but he knows. He talked to the sheriff about it. They have stashed it. They don’t mean to turn it in. They mean to sell it.

Like I said, the police are the same everywhere.” Nikolai reached down and brought Logan’s head up by his brown hair. He spoke in thickly accented English. “This is true?”

“I don’t know. I don’t speak Russian, asshole. I have no idea what any of you has said for the past couple of minutes.” Logan’s whole body was tense, but the words spat from his mouth.

Pushkin slapped him, the sound reverberating through the room.

He switched to heavily accented English. “Then let me speak your language. You will tell me where my painting is.”

“Can’t help you, buddy. I don’t know nothing about art. I’m just a country boy.” Logan’s face was bright red, the imprint of Pushkin’s hand plain on the skin.

Pushkin snapped, and Nikolai began to drag Logan toward a desk in an office at the back of the room. It was far from the front door.

That desk would serve as Logan’s torture chamber. All the while Luka watched Alexei, his gun close at hand. His eyes were on the woman in Alexei’s arms, Alexei realized. He got the feeling Luka wasn’t convinced that all was as it seemed.

Alexei would have to wait.

He prayed Logan would survive the experience.

Stef’s first instinct was to find her. His second instinct was to tie her up, throw her over his shoulder, haul her ass back home, and never allow her to leave again.