“Loyal enough,” He answeredeasily, and honestly. “Loyal enough to protect you with mylife.”
“My fathermust be paying you a lotof money for that statement of devotion. You don’t even knowme.”
“He is,” he statedcasually, “but I will earn it.”
“Have you protected peoplebefore?”
“Many.”
“Any die?”
“Yes.”
She waited for him toelaborate but he didn’t, “Was it your fault?”
“Even if it wasn’t, I takethe blame because I could have prevented thecircumstances.”
“Was it your fault?” sherepeated.
“As I said, soyes.”
“That’s not what I asked,Mr. Casey. This is important to me.”
He tilted his head.“Why?”
“You want me to trust you.I need to know why you are taking the blame for something thatwasn’t your fault.”
After a moment of thought,he decided to answer her. “The man I was protecting was a Europeandiplomat. He had several mistresses on the side. He’d had numerousdeath threats but insisted on seeing—a woman for sex, against myinstruction. It turned out, she was the assassin. Now you mightunderstand why I need you to listen to me.”
“Oh.” She pinked upslightly. “Well, I have no worries in that department. I don’t havesecret rendezvous.”
Now that was surprising.She was beautiful, young, sophisticated and it was obvious that menwould desire her. He’d seen photos of her before the abduction,before the physical damage. She was, and still is, as far as he wasconcerned, a credit to her sex. Hell, he only knew her for about anhour and found himself attracted to her. It wasn’t as if hecouldn’t keep their relationship professional, he could. He wouldjust ignore the attraction. Yet, he also felt compassion for her.She must’ve have went through some unthinkable things in captivity,however, she still carried herself proudly. Even though she wasspoiled by her wealthy father, she was a proud person. He actuallyadmired that.
“We have something incommon Mr. Casey.”
“Oh?”
“Like you, my father sentme off to boarding school when I was young. I was barely six.” Hereyes went back to his, “I can relate.”
“That’s quite adistance.”
“My mother wanted us close,but he didn’t. Now I know why. He had secrets. He didn’t want us toknow. Even when she died, he didn’t bring us home for her funeral.”Her eyes went to his again, “Does it bother you to work for acriminal—a murderer?”
He shook his head notsaying anything. Of course it did.
Inside Katya felt her angerrise, “Because of the money? Men are all alike. You are no betterthan he is.” She turned away and looked out the window and keptsilent 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 herfor her opinions, because it looked exactly like that. It’s what hewanted 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 Nickolovfamily. He’d take them all down just to get revenge for his brotherand his family.
As for money, he alreadyhad enough to make him comfortable. He didn’t live excessivelybecause he liked the simple life. Except for the villa in France,his apartment in New York was of middle class. He also had a loghome on lakefront property in northern Canada and owned thesurrounding few hundred acres to go with it. He liked his privacyand solitude. There weren’t many people he trusted.
When the car pulled throughthe wrought iron gates of the estate she turned her head and lookedat him again, but didn’t say a word. He returned her gaze withattractive grey eyes. She knew this man was more than capable ofprotecting her. She’d had bodyguards in the past and they werearrogant, self-assured and big, but this man, he carried himself alittle different. He’d seen things and done things the othershadn’t. It was just a sense she got off of him. He didn’t bragabout himself like the others did either. Also, she was always ableto manipulate the others to get her way, but for some reason sheknew it would be lost on him. There was a sharp intelligence in hisgrey eyes. Maybe there was some compassion for her there too. Shemight have caught a glimpse of it when she first met him, but he’dyet to reveal it again. She trusted her instincts. She was certainshe saw it. It made her want to trust him, but she was all out oftrust at the moment. He was also the first person that hadn’t triedto interrogate her. If anything, he seemed disinterested. For thepast 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 hismen. They barely made it out unscathed. He had some nerve! Shenever revealed anything to any of them. She would take whathappened to her grave.
She continued to study him,to distract her—or rather, he was distracting. Her fatherdefinitely spared no expense with this man. Mr. Casey was veryhandsome, and as she thought before, he took care of himself. Hewas big, and muscular from the way his suit fit. It was tailormade, expensive. He had wide shoulders, thick chest, and a flatstomach. His legs were long, but he was tall. Her eyes went to hisshoes noting that they were spotless, military style. In fact,everything about him was disciplined. Her father’s employees woreexpensive suits, but unlike them, this man made the suit, not theother way around. Also, their shoes never showed the cleanlinessthis man’s did. Then, there was her father. He wouldn’t have hiredanyone but the best. He was trying to get her to forgive him, ormore than likely, not tell the authorities who he really was. Well,it would be a cold day in hell before she forgave him or toldanyone anything. He was still her father. Even though she honestlynever knew him, or would have endured what she did because of whohe was, she couldn’t bring herself to let anyone know about him.She shuddered hoping it wasn’t physically visible.
She never really knew herfather because he never was
