“I’ve got twenty dollars that says I can,” Alexei said. “Unless you think you can’t lift that little weight a few times.”
Bethany risked a small peek into the room and saw her father struggling to lift the small dumbbells through the various motions he’d been given. On the floor nearby, Alexei had stripped off his shirt and was doing pushups, seemingly without effort, the muscles in his arms and back rippling in a way that did disturbing things to her insides. A dragon tattoo in black and red looked as though it was going to slither down his shoulder. She ducked back inside the kitchen before either of them could see her, a crazy idea beginning to form.
*
After he’d worn the old man out and left him sitting in front of the television, Alexei went into the kitchen to get one more cup of coffee before he hit the road. The three hundred pushups hadn’t even left him out of breath, but he had to admit it had almost been fun to get Calum to do what he was supposed to. No matter what people thought, there was more to Alexei Knight than just brawn. Maybe his brothers’ brains and charm had finally worn off on him a bit. Or maybe not.
Bethany was waiting for him, sitting at the kitchen table with two mugs and a determined expression. Alexei had only known her for a day, but he already knew that face meant trouble. Maybe he didn’t need the coffee after all. He’d just won twenty bucks off her father - he’d get some at a diner somewhere. He started edging toward the door.
“Sit,” Bethany said firmly, reminding him for a moment of Barbara in one of her moods. He sat, looking at her warily.
“If this is about the money,” he started to say.
She shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would have paid that much just to see you con him into eating.” She raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention the floor show.”
Alexei pulled the larger mug toward him, secretly tickled by the idea that she’d been watching him. “What then?”
“I have a proposition for you,” Bethany said, chin lifting as if to ward off an argument she was sure was coming.
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Fabulous. I haven’t had one of those in weeks.”
“Not that kind of proposition, you oaf.” But she said it with a smile. “This is business. You said you hadn’t made up your mind where you were going next. I’d like you to consider staying here and taking care of my father for the next week, until I can get another aide.”
She went on, talking fast as though afraid to let him get the word “no” out before she had finished. “I can’t afford to pay you much, but you could sleep in the guest house for free, and I’d feed you three meals a day. And I have a neighbor who is willing to come over for a few hours in the evenings to sit with Dad until I get home, so you could still get your drinking in, seeing as how that’s so important to you. What do you say? It would only be for a week, probably.”
Alexei gazed at her across the table. It wasn’t as though taking care of one crippled old man - and a talkative pregnant dog - would be that tough. Or that he had anyplace else to be. Spending another few days with Bethany wouldn’t be any hardship either, although he wasn’t about to tell her that. She amused him, and not much had done that in quite a while.
“You barely know me,” he said, not wanting to give in too easily. “Are you sure you want to trust your father’s care to a stranger?”
She shrugged. “A stranger who can get him to eat and do his exercises? You bet. I trust him to strangers all the time; they just come from an agency instead of a bar. Besides, there’s nothing here worth stealing, and you’re not likely to murder him while he’s watching Jeopardy. So, what do you say?”
Alexei pretended to ponder the offer for another minute. “I get to drink for free? Beer and vodka? And I can play pool?”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “Fine, beer and vodka. But not the good stuff. Not at the rate you swill it. And as long as you’re honest about it, you can play all the pool you want. But no ripping people off and no fighting.”
“Bah,” Alexei said, but held out one huge hand anyway. He was tempted to spit on it, just to see how desperate she was to have his help, but decided he’d just wait and torture her in other ways. This was going to be fun. At least, as much fun as you could have with a stinky dog, a cranky old man, and a bar owner with silly rules. “Deal.”
A small, callused hand reached across the table to clasp his. “Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?” Bethany said, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “For what I’m going to give you in food and booze, I could probably have sent him on a cruise for a week instead.”
“Yes,” Alexei said with a grin. “But then you wouldn’t have the pleasure of my company. And that would be just tragic.”
Chapter 4
Len Morgan was out on his fishing boat much too early in the morning, as usual. Fishing was definitely the wrong occupation for a man who hated to get up early. But hell, he hated fish, too. And the truth was, he was a lousy fisherman. Unlike his two older brothers, who seemed to love the life they were all raised to, Len despised the hard work, the smell of fish, and the constant ache in his back and shoulders. Given the choice, he’d much rather be a pirate. But since there wasn’t really such a thing anymore - and if there was, it would probably be hard work too, if he was realistic about it - he settled for supplementing his meager legitimate earnings with some judicious smuggling on the side. Now that was easy labor with a good return.
Just today, he’d earned five thousand bucks. And all he’d had to do was meet up with a Russian trawler out in international waters and pick up an innocuous-looking duffle bag filled with heroin. Said duffle bag now resided underneath a load of cod, waiting to be handed off to a guy once he got back to shore. It had taken him a few years and a bunch of successful trips like this one to work his way up to being trusted enough to do the big hauls - that plain gray bag contained two million dollars worth, so he’d been told by a mean-looking dude with a scarred face, a gravelly voice, and a nose that had been broken more than once. “Don’t lose it,” the man had joked. As if Len would be crazy enough to lose two million dollars of the Russian mob’s money. He was lazy, not insane.
A crackle from his radio roused him from his musings. Then the message he heard woke him up the rest of the way, slamming his heart into overdrive and sending his pulse racing. Shit.
Crackle. “This is the Coast Guard. Please bring your vessel to a halt and prepare to be boarded. I repeat, this is the Coast Guard.”