Retribution (6 page)

He shook his head not
saying anything. Of course it did.

Inside Katya felt her anger
rise, “Because of the money? Men are all alike. You are no better
than he is.” She turned away and looked out the window and kept
silent for the rest of the ride home.

Ryan didn’t say anything.
He wasn’t going to tell her his reasons and he wouldn’t fault her
for her opinions, because it looked exactly like that. It’s what he
wanted it to look like. He had his own interests for being here.
She was a way in. He didn’t care about her or any of the Nickolov
family. He’d take them all down just to get revenge for his brother
and his family.

As for money, he already
had enough to make him comfortable. He didn’t live excessively
because he liked the simple life. Except for the villa in France,
his apartment in New York was of middle class. He also had a log
home on lakefront property in northern Canada and owned the
surrounding few hundred acres to go with it. He liked his privacy
and solitude. There weren’t many people he trusted.

When the car pulled through
the wrought iron gates of the estate she turned her head and looked
at him again, but didn’t say a word. He returned her gaze with
attractive grey eyes. She knew this man was more than capable of
protecting her. She’d had bodyguards in the past and they were
arrogant, self-assured and big, but this man, he carried himself a
little different. He’d seen things and done things the others
hadn’t. It was just a sense she got off of him. He didn’t brag
about himself like the others did either. Also, she was always able
to manipulate the others to get her way, but for some reason she
knew it would be lost on him. There was a sharp intelligence in his
grey eyes. Maybe there was some compassion for her there too. She
might have caught a glimpse of it when she first met him, but he’d
yet to reveal it again. She trusted her instincts. She was certain
she saw it. It made her want to trust him, but she was all out of
trust at the moment. He was also the first person that hadn’t tried
to interrogate her. If anything, he seemed disinterested. For the
past week every government official, from the police to the FBI,
marched into her hospital room demanding to know what happened.
Then her father came. She threw a vase at him. Then he sent his
men. They barely made it out unscathed. He had some nerve! She
never revealed anything to any of them. She would take what
happened to her grave.

She continued to study him,
to distract her—or rather, he was distracting. Her father
definitely spared no expense with this man. Mr. Casey was very
handsome, and as she thought before, he took care of himself. He
was big, and muscular from the way his suit fit. It was tailor
made, expensive. He had wide shoulders, thick chest, and a flat
stomach. His legs were long, but he was tall. Her eyes went to his
shoes noting that they were spotless, military style. In fact,
everything about him was disciplined. Her father’s employees wore
expensive suits, but unlike them, this man made the suit, not the
other way around. Also, their shoes never showed the cleanliness
this man’s did. Then, there was her father. He wouldn’t have hired
anyone but the best. He was trying to get her to forgive him, or
more than likely, not tell the authorities who he really was. Well,
it would be a cold day in hell before she forgave him or told
anyone anything. He was still her father. Even though she honestly
never knew him, or would have endured what she did because of who
he was, she couldn’t bring herself to let anyone know about him.
She shuddered hoping it wasn’t physically visible.

She never really knew her
father because he never was close with either of his children. They
were raised in boarding schools and by nannies. She always knew him
as short tempered and intolerant. He was no more than a stranger
growing up. She and Anna were expected to play a part at social
functions, and she did what she was raised to do. He showed pride
at his daughters in the public, but barely paid attention to either
one of them in private. She thought that was normal until she was
in her late teens and saw how loving her friends’ parents were with
their children.

She swallowed hard again
trying to resist the tears that threatened to fall. Anna was dead.
They tortured, raped, mutilated and killed her and made her listen
to everything as a warning to her father. Then they left her
terrified and alone, blindfolded and tied, her clothes in tatters,
in front of one of his houses three days later. Now every time she
closed her eyes images would flash before her. She could never
forget what had happened.

Neither one of them knew
the secrets that her father had, but she certainly did now. Why
they murdered Anna and kept her alive, she’d never know. There were
a few times that she was so terrified that she wished it was her
that they killed. She hadn’t been able to sleep without some sort
of light on since.

She focused on the gardens
the car cruised past still trying not to weep. Suddenly a white
handkerchief appeared in front of her. With deep breath and without
a word she reached up and took it. She wasn’t crying, but she was
close. She was certain she didn’t let a sign of it reach her
expression. Obviously she didn’t do a very good job of hiding her
feelings from him. This was something she had to work
on.

Her eyes flicked back up to
his, then to the front of the large stone mansion that came into
view. She was thinking how much she wanted to be somewhere else,
anywhere but here. Disgust and anger welled up in the pit of her
stomach making it churn. This was a death house.

“Are you going to throw
up?”

Her attention went back to
her new bodyguard. He was still watching her intently. It was a
dangerous combination, being intuitive as well as intelligent. He
read her too easily. Yet, she was certain he wasn’t going to let
her know the real him. It was hard to trust someone, anyone, when
the world you thought you lived in was a lie. Ryan was a
professional and how was she supposed to trust him when she didn’t
know him? That just wasn’t going to happen. Yet, she’d been lied to
her whole life by people closer to her than him. Trusting an
outsider seemed to be the only recourse at the moment. He’d stated
he would risk his life to save her. She believed him. “No,” she
finally answered. She was close to it though so she didn’t even
deny the queasiness.

He nodded that he’d heard
her.

The car circled around a
paved driveway and came to a stop in front of the stone steps. Ryan
got out just as several servants came out to get her bags. He held
his hand out for Katya who ignored it and stepped out on her own.
He wasn’t put off by it. He knew she was not happy about him being
around her besides being back in a house full of people she
loathed. She was forced to stay there with someone she blamed for
her sister’s death and caused her suffering. He honestly didn’t
expect her to come around and warm up to him either.

When they found her there
was a note pinned to her chest. All it said was ‘not
done.’

“Welcome home Miss
Nickolov,” greeted Ivan as she walked by. He smiled affectionately
at her.

Katya never said anything.
She never even spared him a glance. All of this was a complete lie.
She’d known Ivan since she was six, yet he was part of this deceit
that her father put on. He
knew
about his business, and
protected
him. She would never trust
him again. Secondly, this wasn’t her home. She’d only lived here a
short time only in her last few years of high school. Her father
had sent her away at a young age to be raised by strangers and she
promised herself that she’d never consider it home now.

Ivan’s face fell in
disappointment. Then, he looked past her to Ryan.

Ryan just raised his brows
as if to say, ‘What do you expect?’ as he followed her through the
foyer to the marble cased stairs.

Ivan narrowed his piercing
blue eyes on Ryan’s back. He had asked Peter for the chance to
guard Katya. He’d seen her grow up and protected her. Mostly, he’d
been in love with her since she turned eighteen. Peter refused him
even though he’d given him fourteen years of unwavering loyalty.
They needed an outsider, he said, because she didn’t trust any of
them and he needed her safe. Ivan didn’t think that applied to him,
but after that display, he knew he was wrong. He was angry over her
reaction to him. He couldn’t have her feel that way about him. He’d
find a way back into her heart. As for that man that his boss
brought in, he’d find a way to discredit him.

Ryan opened the door to her
room and did a routine check before allowing her in.

“It’s my room. I don’t
think there are monsters in the closet,” she said coolly visibly
angered that he inspected her private room. It was invasive and
even her father’s men never stepped foot in there. It was also
probably the only place she could expect solitude and she certainly
didn’t like a stranger poking around in it. Besides, the estate was
well protected and she doubted very much that anyone would risk the
numerous guards, pit bulls and guns that lurked inside the secluded
iron gates and brick walls.

He ignored her and walked
over to the door adjoining their rooms and opened it. “This stays
open,” he said beginning to step through it.

She was slack-jawed. It was
then that she realized that her father placed him in the room right
next to hers, not downstairs with the rest of his men. She was
appalled and rushed up to him, fuming. “Oh! No it doesn’t.” she
protested, “I will not have you peeking in on my while I
dress!”

Well, there goes the solemn
demeanor. Again he found himself resisting a smile. He paused and
turned back to her, “You have a dressing room, a bathroom and a
disgustingly overlarge wardrobe closest. If you wish to strip your
clothes off while I’m in the line of sight I’ll presume you want me
to see something. Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen
before.”

Her cheeks heated up. He
had some nerve! “Don’t be absurd!” she shot, “I’m just not used to
having a man within breathing distance. I may forget that you’re
there. The rest of the men have comfortable quarters downstairs!
You should be with them.”

“First of all, I doubt you
won’t see me,” he said. “I’m hard to miss. Secondly, I’m not one of
those men. I’m strictly here as your protection, not as your
father’s henchman, so I stay close.” He gave her a sloppy smile
before he went through the door.

She glared at his back
wishing she had something in reach to throw at him. How dare he
argue and mock her! Well, at least he one thing right. He certainly
wasn’t like her father’s men.

Her eyes followed him until
he disappeared in his room. Then she turned and walked over to the
large French doors of her bedroom that led to an immense stone
balcony. It spanned across to the room next door and overlooked the
pool and the gardens in the back, then beyond, to the beach. She
opened the doubled doors, walked out and leaned on the railing
looking out at the scenery. The ocean breeze rushed over her face
and blew her bangs off her forehead. She inhaled deeply, loving the
scent of the ocean. She always loved this view. It was still
beautiful despite the circumstances of why she was
there.

She would routinely jog on
that beach by herself. Now, she knew she couldn’t do that out of
fear. She doubted she’d even be able to step through the gate
without trembling. Her thoughts turned bitter. It was her father’s
fault. All of it! If only she’d known what he was into, she would
have been more prepared, more on guard. Yes, she always loved this
view, but now it left a bad taste in her mouth. Her father paid for
this place with blood money. She wondered how many people died so
he could get rich. Ironically, her arm started to hurt as if it was
just another reminder of what her father’s sins brought her. She
turned and went back into her room.

She dropped the defensive
façade and told the truth when she spoke next. “Mr. Casey, despite
how I come across. What happened to me was traumatic. I find myself
frightened of things that didn’t bother me before.” He wasn’t near
her, but obviously close enough to be within earshot because he
answered.

“I understand.”

His voice was deep and soft
and—close. She turned around and saw him leaning against the door
frame adjoining their room. For a big man, he never made a sound.
“I mean, having a man so close.” She nodded toward the open door.
He stared at her for a moment and she wondered if he really did
understand. When he didn’t say anything she spoke again. “Mr.
Casey?”

He held up a hand. “I’m
trying to word this without upsetting you—again.”

“Oh.”

“First of all, the door
stays open no matter what, especially after what you just
confessed. Second, I never hurt a woman or a child in my
life.”

“Never?”

He shook his
head.

“What about the woman that
killed your client?”

Shit. He’d forgotten about
that lie. “She was arrested, convicted of murder and is spending
the rest of her life in a Polish jail cell.” Truth was, he’d never
lost anyone. He’d also never worked privately as a bodyguard. He
needed her to trust him—empathize with him over how important
protecting her was to him.