Page 11 of Viktor

Viktor laughed, seeing some of the life come back into Sara. Her cheeks flushed and eyes brightened. “Your dad do any hunting?”

“Good Lord, yes. He’s as redneck as you can get and still be considered civilized. He had a deer head mounted over the fireplace in his office until we came to live there. It scared Delia, and he took it down. It now holds a place of honor lording over the Christmas ornaments in the attic.”

Her father reminded Viktor of his Uncle Luke. He’d shown all his nephews how to shoot, how to hunt, and how to track in the woods. He loved his uncle and valued the lessons he learned from him. Not just the skills, but the life lessons he’d imparted to them. Some of them Viktor hadn’t understood until much later, but his redneck uncle was wiser than anyone he’d ever met, including hisbabushka.

“I’d feel better if there was a security system, especially when I’m not there. I’ll talk to your father. Maybe I can convince him to let me have one installed.”

“Good luck.”

“We need to talk about tomorrow. I can’t fly with you because I have Dimitri’s car. Usually, I’d insist you drive with me, but it’s a long drive, and I don’t want to make Delia suffer through that. I’ve called in one of my men to fly with you and then escort you home. He has instructions to stay until I get there.”

Sara frowned. “He doesn’t need to stay. Once we’re home, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Remember me telling you there were certain things you were going to have to do?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“This would be one of those things. Your protection is my only priority. Gabriel is one of my best men. He’ll make sure you get home and that Roger doesn’t come near you until I can get there. He has strict orders.”

Viktor waited for her to explode, but much to his surprise, she only nodded.

“Given Roger’s many voicemails, I’m sure he’ll show up when we get home. Having someone there will ease my mind.”

“That was easier than I thought.”

“You expected me to throw a fit?”

“Yes.”

“When it comes to Delia, I won’t ever pitch a fit. Try to tell me what to do when it has nothing to do with my own protection or Delia’s, and you’ll get an entirely different Sara Jane. You won’t like her.”

“I don’t know. I think I might like the feisty Sara Jane quite a bit.”

Her eyes widened at his obvious flirtation, and he wanted to kick himself. Flirting with this woman was easy. He needed to rein it in.

“I’ll take you to the airport. A friend of mine put me on the list to be able to get in without a plane ticket so I can stay with you until you board.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Yes. We can’t guarantee your husband isn’t here, and I’d rather be with you in case he is.” Viktor called for the check. “If you’re ready, we’ll get you back to the hotel. We’ll both get some much-needed rest.”

The drive back to the hotel was quiet. Viktor walked her to her room before going to his own hotel for the night, his mind buzzing with everything he needed to do to ensure their safety.

It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

The plane and the subsequent ride from the airport was uneventful. Delia was subdued. Sara attributed that to Gabe, Viktor’s man who came to escort them to Virginia. The child wasn’t good with strangers. Except for Viktor and Dimitri. She’d taken to the brothers like a duck to water. It still boggled her mind.

Gabe was not what she expected. He was tall, blond, and built. But none of that was what she noticed first. It was his glasses. A man with glasses was not someone you’d think would be in private security. She knew she was stereotyping, but she couldn’t help it. The tattoo sleeve along his arms mocked the glasses, though. She hadn’t gotten a good glimpse at it yet, but she was determined to. It was the writer in her. She wrote about tattooed men, and Gabe’s called to her curiosity like candy to a child.

Quiet. That was how she’d describe him. Once Viktor introduced him, the man barely said more than a handful of words. The ride from the airport to Falls Church was all but silent. Even Delia didn’t ramble on like she was prone to whenever her father wasn’t around. It was a relief to pull up to her parents’ farmhouse.

Her father, Roy Dean Grafton, stepped out on the front porch, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. He frowned, seeing a stranger driving the car. As soon as Delia was free from the vehicle, she hurtled headfirst at her grandpa. He caught her and promptly kissed her cheek, making wet sounds, and it set her to giggling.

“How’s Pawpawl’s girl?”

“Hungry.” Delia rubbed her belly, which let out a rumble.

“Did they starve Pawpawl’s baby?”

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