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Authors: Roxanne St. Claire

Barefoot With a Bodyguard (38 page)

BOOK: Barefoot With a Bodyguard
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Alec made quick introductions, and then the Realtor stepped away. “Take your time and look around again. I’ll be right on the street.”

Appreciating the privacy for the second tour of a space Alec could navigate with his eyes closed, he led Gregg deeper into the empty unit. But it wasn’t empty to him.

It was full of memories, the thump and bustle of meat being delivered in the back, his father’s soft-spoken voice giving orders, his mother’s easy laugh, a line of customers calling out orders, the smell of beef and wax paper and the powdered sugar tea cakes they always gave away with every purchase. She was a strong woman, despite the hand life had dealt her. Maybe because of it. She’d done what she had to do to protect her husband and his business.

And his father hadn’t signed away a son, after all. So he could be forgiven, too.

“You could mirror that wall and build a cushion-flex floor, maybe a cage over there for practice?”

Gregg’s ideas faded in and out of Alec’s attention as he let his mind drift back, picking up snippets of conversation, shared looks, and secret communication between his parents. They’d loved each other, very much. Whatever happened with Vlitnik had to have ended when he was born, thank God.

“You could actually run small, private classes simultaneously in those two back rooms,” Gregg continued. “Or use one for weight training.”

And how did this truth change his life? Could he rise above the shame that his biological father had left in his gut? He’d been asking himself that question nonstop since he left Florida.

“Of course, you’ll need a private office.”

The truth had already cost him the woman he loved.

Gregg got in his face and snapped his fingers, making Alec jerk. “What’s the problem?”

Life without Kate. That was the problem. “I have to be worthy of her. I was almost there. So close, then wham.”

Gregg inched back, his eyes darkening under the shadow of a frown. “You don’t mean…”

“I do. Kate Kingston.”

“Your pretend wife.”

Alec took a pained breath, not sure how to explain it to his mentor.

“And you don’t want it to be pretend?” Gregg crossed his arms. “What’s stopping you?”

The very blood in my veins.
“I have a dark past.”

Gregg gave him a
get real
look. “And a great future, right here, with a new business that is going to boom. She’s a lawyer, right? You know what this town needs? A badass prosecutor. From what I’ve heard, she’d be great at that.”

She would. So great.

Kate would take the New York bar exam in a heartbeat; he knew that about her. “She knows why I’m staying away.”

“Why?” Gregg demanded.

“Because she’s perfect, and I’m not worthy of perfect.”

Gregg slid his hands into his pockets and his blue eyes turned to icy blades aimed at Alec. “You know I don’t agree with that. You cut me with comments like that, my friend. I’ve protected you for years, and why do you think? Because you’re worthy.”

“Sadly, it’s not you I want to marry.”

A smile flicked at the corner of his lips. “Marry.” It wasn’t a question. He turned and looked around the space again, as if seeing it again. “Would it help if I asked you to be my eyes and ears here in Brighton Beach? I need someone on the ground who can help me feed information to the FBI. Vlitnik’s
Bratva
might be dead and his men scurrying away like rats in the sunlight, but another one will emerge.”

“Of course I will. I planned on it.”

Gregg shrugged. “Then you even have a worthy cause. You’re worthy of her.”

Alec just stared at him. “She said I was, too, but she doesn’t know—”

“So tell her.”

“I can’t. It’s more complicated than you know.”

“I know exactly how complicated it is, Alec.” He leaned in to whisper, “I know
everything
, and let me tell you, that doesn’t change who you
are
.”

Alec stared at him, waiting for something, anything to tell him it wasn’t true.

“And it sucks—”

“You have no idea.”

“—that you think you can’t rise above the sins of your dirty DNA and set a new example, create a new history, and have as positive an impact on this town as he had negative. Because if you truly think that, then you’re right, you’re
not
worthy of her. Or me.”

Alec swallowed hard. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Yes, you have. That’s the reason we’re here, buying this property. That’s the reason you’re more than willing to risk your business, or even more, to share information. Because, if you were so ashamed or miserable about this, you’d take the ticket to Costa Rica and hide.”

Alec didn’t answer, letting Gregg’s words echo through the empty space.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Gregg said softly. “And that’s going to cost you a woman.”

“Hey, Dad!” Kristina popped in through the front doors, carrying a bag and wearing a bright pink scarf around her neck. “Got one for Raquel, too.”

Gregg reached out and put an arm around his daughter, giving her a squeeze. Alec watched the exchange, his heart twisting so hard he had to look away.

While they talked about her purchases, Alec walked over to the window, the one his mother decorated with white lace curtains, where she kept a table with two chairs so patrons waiting for their order could sit and eat Daria Petrov’s free cookies.

She’d done what she had to do, and so had her father. They were victims of the system, a system he had to fight. But he didn’t want to fight it alone. He didn’t want to live another day alone, frankly.

Gregg surprised him by putting a hand on Alec’s back. “You should make an offer on this place,” he said.

He looked at his friend, not caring that the man who’d brought him through some of the worst times of his life could see tears in Alec’s eyes. “I can’t do that on my own.”

“I told you, I’m good for the loan, Alec.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He smiled, already feeling less hollow. “I have to talk to…my wife.”

Gregg laughed, nodding toward Alec’s hand. “And I thought you still had that ring on because it was stuck on your supersized finger.”

“It’s not stuck,” he said with a smile. “I just didn’t want to take it off.”
Ever
.

Chapter Thirty-three

Kate packed up the last of her books and clothes, leaving out something to travel in later, and stepped into a beach cover-up over panties. It was all she needed for her last treat at Casa Blanca, the much-needed massage the spa had called and offered as a complimentary going-away present.

A consolation present, more like.

She grabbed the key and stepped out into a blast of sunshine, taking a minute to let it warm her, then padding barefoot to cabana number two.

At least it wasn’t the same one where she’d lost her control and mind and heart to Alec Petrov.

Still no word from him. She’d finally stopped waiting. Or she would, soon.

She hadn’t quite reached the cabana when she saw the woman in a giant orange hat step out of it and wave to her. “Oh, hello. So good to see you again!”

Kate mustered a smile, despite a heavy heart. Madame Valaina wasn’t around here every day, so she probably hadn’t heard the truth about the honeymooners in Caralluma. But Kate didn’t feel like telling her story.

But Madame Valaina came closer, sliding her sunglasses down to inspect Kate with her usual scrutiny. “You miss him.”

So maybe she had heard. “So bad it’s a miracle I’m not rolled up into the fetal position weeping.”

That made Madame V grin. “I could tell it was intense between you two. He couldn’t take a decent breath when he looked at you.”

Well, he was taking them now. “That’s how I feel today,” she admitted.

The woman put a gentle hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Then you better go inside and feel better.”

A massage was not the answer, but Kate smiled and headed to the cabana, pulling back the drapes to blink into the dimness of the small area. Her gaze went straight to the single massage table with fresh sheets folded down, but no therapist in sight.

“Hello?” she called, knowing there was a private space closed off in the back behind another curtain, but no one answered. “Hailey?”

After a second, she slipped out of her cover-up and climbed onto the table to slide into the envelope of the sheet, leaving her barely covered backside out. No need for modesty this time around.

Although she hadn’t been modest with Alec. She’d been honest. Real. Out there. Vulnerable. And now she was—
A large, heavy hand landed on her back. “Oh!” She started to sit up and turn, not expecting a male massage therapist. But the hand was strong and held her immobile, the man it belonged to standing so she couldn’t see him.

“What do you call these?” A finger flicked at the lace trim of her thong. “Smartypants?”

Alec
.

She gasped in surprise and left her mouth open to say something…but nothing came out. Not a word, big, small, or otherwise. He’d left her speechless.

“Whatever you call them…they’re perfect.” He punctuated that by placing his hand on her exposed buttocks, caressing and, of course, sending a million sparks through her body and chills up her spine. “Just like you.”

She tried to push up. “Al—”

“Shhh.” He pressed her back to the table. “You just breathe. I’ll do the work. Madame Valaina gave me some tips.”

Without speaking, he slowly rubbed his thumbs in two circles over her spine, making her feel boneless and loose. And confused. And thrilled.

Mostly thrilled.

“You’re really tense,” he said, adding pressure to muscles bunched under her neck. “Like you’ve been in a lot of pain.”

“Broken heart,” she muttered.

She heard his soft, soft moan of sorrow, enough of an apology that she accepted it instantly.

“I can fix that,” he whispered. “I can use my hands”—he splayed them wide on her back, easily covering the width of it—“to do good things. Many good things. Like this.”

Very gently, he helped her turn over on the bed. She closed her eyes as she did, not quite ready for the impact of Alec.

She heard him hiss in a breath and met his gaze, which was as hot as a gas flame, and just as blue. She gasped, too, just at the sheer joy of seeing him again.

She started to sit up, but he placed his hands on her shoulders and kept her on her back, looming over her, teasing her with how close he was and how much she wanted to hold him.

He splayed his fingers against her skin, dropping his gaze to look at them. “I never realized that my hands could be good, until I used them to touch you.”

She made a little sound in her throat, biting her lip, glancing down to see his dark, marked hands juxtaposed against her pale skin.

“And I never knew that I could be worthy of anything, until you made me want to be worthy of you.”

“Alec, you—”

He put his finger over her lips to quiet her, clearly bent on getting his speech out. “And, Kate, I never knew that I was capable of love, until I fell in love with you.”

She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Tried to blink back the tears, but couldn’t do that, either. Instead, she just closed her hand over his and squeezed, nodding.

Slowly, he lifted her up so she could sit and face him. He reached underneath the table and pulled out a swath of red chiffon, exactly like the one she’d kept and packed in her bag.

“She must give these to all her favorites,” he said, draping it around her shoulders. He leaned closer, their faces nearly touching now. “Damn, I’ve missed you.”

She felt the brand of his lips on her forehead and finally found her voice. “Where have you been?”

He kissed her again, then inched back to look at her. “I went home,” he said. “To Brighton Beach, to face some things.”

She didn’t answer, suspecting she already knew what he’d faced. Would he tell her? He had to. If he didn’t, then she wouldn’t know if she could trust anything he said. “Things like what?” she asked.

He leveled his gaze on her. “Like the fact that my biological father is a killer and a monster.”

She closed her eyes and imagined how that must have felt. “Oh, Alec.”

“Gregg met me there,” he said. “And helped talk sense into me.”

“What does sense sound like?” she asked.

He kissed her eyes and cheek, brushed her lips. “Like the sound of your name.”

She sighed into a light kiss.

“I came back for you, Kate,” he whispered. “I need you in my life. I want you by my side. I cannot live another day without you.”

Each confession tumbled over her heart, healing the cracks he’d left there.

He leaned away and gave her a funny look. “But I know how you feel about…men.”

“Not all men.”

“And your independence?”

“Feels like another word for lonely these days.”

She could see hope lighting his eyes to a new shade of blue. “And marriage?”

BOOK: Barefoot With a Bodyguard
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