***
I looked up in sympathy as a physically and emotionally exhausted Mig finally dragged himself through the door of his bedroom.
He’d been talking with his parents and grandmother for a very long time.
I could hear Vitaly Sr. yelling at the top of his lungs—mostly in Russian. I had only been able to make out the basics because all I understood was the word ‘Jennifer’ from his mouth.
I’d quietly left, closing the door behind me.
Then I’d snuck off to the bedroom I guessed was ours since it was where our bags were.
I’d passed the master, knowing instantly that Mig’s father was staying there from the men’s socks on the floor.
But there was also women’s underwear on the floor.
I didn’t go too much further into that room before backpedaling.
I’d also passed Nonnie’s room and knew it was hers by all the pictures on the walls from different generations.
The last one I came to must’ve been solely the guest room since we had our own little entrance and exit to the backyard, although I couldn’t see the pool that I knew was there.
I’d been sitting on the bed, looking out over the sprawling lawn, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing into the beach and trying to drown out the yelling.
Now, here I sat with a million questions on my mind.
So I started in on him, even though I knew he needed a break.
But it was time.
I needed to know.
“Mig…why don’t you talk to your father?” I asked.
He grimaced, plopping down in a wicker chair that was staged ‘just so’ against the far wall.
“My father had different ways of making sure I became a ‘man’, as he liked to call it, and a lot of those ways always ended up with me bleeding,” he muttered. “And I resented him for leaving us. I still resent him. He’s the reason I stayed with Jennifer as long as I did.”
That made sense, sadly.
I hated that he’d had that kind of childhood.
“What do you mean by ‘bleeding’?” I asked.
He scrunched up his nose.
It was cute.
Which for Mig, was weird.
“He kicked my ass on a daily basis to make sure I was able to fight in case something ever happened to me, and he couldn’t be there to protect me,” he said in answer.
I blinked.
“He beat you so you would know how to fight?” I asked in confusion.
He shrugged. “More or less. Put me into martial arts. Jiu Jitsu. Krav Maga. I’m a master in almost everything there is to be a master in, trying to ensure that I had training in a few different techniques.”
“So you competed in tournaments?” I asked.
He shook his head, eyes never straying from the ceiling.
“No. Not exactly,” he answered cryptically.
“And you did all of that before your military career?” I continued, not giving him a chance to close up.
His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes went blank.
I growled in frustration and stood up, walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?” He asked casually.
I looked at him over my shoulder.
“Away from you and your evasive answers,” I snapped as I slammed the door shut and walked out into the dark hallway.
Then even further to the outdoor pool that we’d eaten dinner near earlier that evening.
The pool was one of those infinity pools that overlooked the ocean. I was laying on one of the lounge chairs looking out over the pool to the ocean. Because of how the pool was built parallel to the horizon, the pool looked like it was running right into the ocean.
I was tempted to get in, but I was only wearing a nightgown, having already taken off my bra and panties to get ready for bed… and for Mig.
Not that I’d give him the satisfaction of knowing that right now.
I looked over at the master bedroom, waving slightly when I saw Vitaly flick his fingers in my direction as he locked the French doors, and pulled down the shades.
I turned my gaze back to the pool, the ocean and the horizon, and contemplated my life.
It was in shambles.
I had to contact all of my clients and tell them that I was taking a ‘leave of absence’ for the foreseeable future. And while I did have a lot saved up (or the insurance money), I wasn’t sure my clients would come back after how abruptly I’d shut my salon down. I didn’t even get into it with them that it was unsafe, that surely would have been the final nail in the coffin of my little salon.
Which meant that since they didn’t know when I’d reopen, they’d have to go to someone else.
Sure, some would come back, but I’d definitely lose even more clients. And I’d already lost quite a few to this situation.
Mig stepped in to my line of sight, and I tilted my head back to pin him with a glare.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
He grinned.
“You.”
“Well, you can’t have me. I’m going to have to take a pass on your dick for awhile,” I told him honestly. “It muddles my thoughts, clouds my brain, and then I starting thinking things are better than they really are.”
“Wow,” he said, walking around the chair. “I had no idea my dick was that powerful, baby. I mean, yeah he’s a big guy and works all kinds of magic, but you make it sound like he’s the leader of a cult or something.”
I flipped him off, and he laughed as he sat down in between my legs.
His big body forced my legs open wider, and I only let that happen because he would have just sat on them if I didn’t.
And I didn’t think my legs could handle his bony butt.
He made himself comfortable, turning to face the ocean, as he leaned back against my chest.
When I went to move, he grabbed my flailing arms and wrapped them around his neck.
I wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but I also wasn’t comfortable, either, with all of Mig’s considerable bulk pressed against me.
“On the back of my neck,” he said.
Then he took my hand and moved it until my fingers brushed over a small, puckered scar.
“What’s that from?” I asked, no longer wanting to move now that I realized he wanted to talk.
I massaged the spot as he started to talk.
“When I was ten, my dad started my training. That first year he also started entering me into cage fighting matches to test my skills and identify my weaknesses,” he said. “I was paired up with kids between five and ten years older than me whose parents also wanted them to learn these same sets of skills.”
I blinked.
“Same sets of skills?” I asked carefully.
He nodded.
“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe the kind of attention rich kids get. Blackmail, extortion. Not to mention that they’re more likely to be targeted for a kidnap and ransom,” he said. “Some parents believed, like my dad did, that if they trained their kids to protect themselves, they’d at least be able to fight back if necessary if there ever came a time that they were taken.”
“That’s…that’s insane,” I finally decided on.
Mig snorted.
“That was my reality. And every summer and Christmas break, until I was eighteen, was spent training with my father,” he sighed. “It was the summer of my fourteenth year that my father decided that maybe I wasn’t as good as he had hoped I would be, and he decided to plant a tracking device in my neck during one of the times that I’d been knocked unconscious.”
I froze with my thumb covering the scar.
“Is it…is it…” I couldn’t finish.
What kind of parent would do that?
Then my gut reaction was just that…to protect.
Vitaly was scared his son would be taken.
So he’d done the unthinkable.
And tagged his son like he was a dog.
“Yeah,” he said.
I blinked.
“It is?” I gasped.
He nodded. “Yeah. I found out about it when I went into the Air Force. He came to my boot camp graduation, told me about it when he took me out to dinner…then asked me to leave it in for his peace of mind.”
I was silent.
“I went down when I was flying during a training exercise. Fished out of the ocean by a Russian ship, no less,” he said. “And held for ransom.”
I stayed silent still, waiting for him to continue as my heart started to race.
“They knew my general location, but the Russians were what you would call modern day pirates,” he said. “They requested money in exchange for me. And you know the US Government doesn’t deal with terrorists.”
No, I didn’t know that.
“My dad found out, even though to this day I don’t know how. The Air Force wouldn’t have told him anything. They don’t usually tell the family unless there’s a body, or that I’m alive and recuperating in a hospital.”
I didn’t know that either.
“I was too banged up to save myself. I had two broken arms, a broken collarbone, and two sprained ankles from the fall into the ocean. I’d deployed my parachute too late; let’s just say it’s not fun to hit the ocean at the speed I’d been going.”
“So your dad saved you?” I guessed.
He nodded.
“And he was disappointed in me,” he confirmed.
I blinked.
“For what?” I practically barked.
“For not being able to save myself, I’d guess,” he surmised.
I didn’t think that was it.
Not at all.
But I would save that conversation for later.
Right now, Mig needed me.
He’d shared some deep stuff with me, stuff I was sure he didn’t ever want to share.
“So after I recovered, I got back in, and did some fixing in my life. Got better. Took more chances. Did some things that I never want to do again,” he said. “But those things took me to Uncertain, and I’m lucky. I could’ve been dead with all the things I tried to do,” he sighed. “Took stupid risks. Didn’t care about the outcome. Until I saw you.”
“Me?” I asked.
He nodded. “A year or so after I moved to Uncertain, you were in the parking lot of the diner, talking to a man about buying his car.”
I remembered that.
And I remembered exactly the moment he’d come outside.
I hadn’t realized he could hear me, though.
“He tried to stiff me,” I laughed.
Mig rolled over, doing something at the back of my chair with his hands, and suddenly I was flat on my back.
“Do you know how hot it was to hear you talk to a man about a car, and it was clear you knew exactly what you were talking about?” He asked.
I smiled at the memory.
The guy had thought that, because I was a teenaged girl, I knew nothing about cars.
But I did.
And I’d turned that man down so fast his head had spun.
“I was also the reason you got your Mustang,” he said.
I blinked.
I had a nice Cherry Red Mustang.
It ran like a dream, and I’d gotten it for a song. I didn’t drive it unless it was the weekend and I had time to get it out of storage.
When I was younger, it’d been a dream to get that car. As I got older, I realized what kind of prize I had in the Mustang, so I bought a daily driver and saved the Mustang for special occasions. A car like that was meant for special.
“Really? How?” I asked.
Then things started to click.
“Was that car yours?” I asked carefully.
He nodded, looking down into my eyes.
“Kind of. I bought it with you in mind. Fixed it up. Then sold it to you by way of Alison’s friend,” he said.
My mouth gaped.
“You’re kidding.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
And suddenly, I just couldn’t help it.
I laughed.
I laughed until I cried.
“You’re horrible,” I told him.
He grinned, leaned forward even more, and let me feel his erection.
It was then that I realized he only had his underwear on…and I didn’t have any.