Saved by the Alien Crime Boss (Aliens Among Us #4)

Chapter 3

THREE

A savory, garlicy aroma lured Mina from the land of dreams.

Spaghetti sauce?

“Mmm…” She smiled and stretched as she inhaled, bowing her back and reaching her arms over her head. The exhalation that followed came out in a rush.

When was the last time Mina woke up to spaghetti for breakfast? She’d loved those Saturday mornings during her childhood when she’d walked into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, to find her mom boiling pasta and heating up sauce. It was so out of the norm. Most kids had pancakes, bacon, eggs, or sugary cereal. But Mina? She got to have dinner for breakfast. Ha, take that!

It wasn’t until she was a little older that she’d realized the true reason behind it. Mina’s mom had barely been making ends meet. Spaghetti was inexpensive, and the two of them could make a pot last for days. But Hannah had always made it fun, and she and Mina would laugh as they slurped their noodles, leaving their mouths and cheeks splattered with tomato sauce.

Even after they’d gotten back on their feet, they’d kept up the tradition.

Wait. Why was Mina waking up to the smell of spaghetti? Her mom had passed away years ago, and Mina lived alone.

She blinked her eyes open and stared up at the rafters of a vaulted ceiling. A wholly unfamiliar ceiling. Dim golden light filled the room, casting deep shadows.

Mina bolted upright. The blanket covering her flipped and landed on her lap. Cool air touched her bare skin, sending a chill through her. She looked down, gasped, and crossed her arms over her chest.

She wasn’t sure if it was a good sign that she was still wearing her bra and panties. On the one hand, she wasn’t entirely naked. On the other…

I’m in my underwear!

Releasing the blanket, Mina squeezed her breasts before slipping a hand between her thighs to cup herself. Nothing felt off or tender, and there was no pain. She felt…normal.

Closing her eyes, Mina bowed her head, slid a hand into her hair, and clenched the strands as she racked her brain. “What happened last night?”

She was guilty of drinking on special occasions, but she was sure she hadn’t touched any alcohol yesterday. All she could recall was closing the café and going to Cornerstone. Just a normal day. Everything had been fine. She’d run into the store, grabbed her groceries, checked out, and then…

The assault.

Her eyes snapped open. “Oh God.”

She straightened and dropped a hand to feel her side. But there was no sign that she’d been stabbed. No broken skin, no scab, not even a scratch. Nothing at all. Yet Mina remembered the pain. She touched her forehead, which her attacker had slammed against her car window. There wasn’t even the slightest bump, wasn’t even a hint of soreness.

Mina’s brow creased. Had it all just been a bad dream?

“No,” she said quietly, drawing the blanket up to cover her chest. It had been real. There was no way the absolute terror she’d felt had been a figment of her imagination.

So where was she? Her memory was fuzzy after hitting her head, but she remembered it had been snowing, and everything had been so eerily quiet except…

She’d heard a deep, inhuman growl, had heard grunts and cries and the sounds of flesh striking flesh. There had been someone else. It was all hazy, but Mina had seen a second shadowy figure.

Someone had come to help her.

But where were they? Who were they? And why hadn’t they taken her to the police or the clinic?

Why was she lying nearly naked in their bed?

Mina frowned as she looked around the room. One wall followed the roof to its peak and was made up entirely of windows, granting an unhindered view of the snow-covered pines in the gloom outside. To the other side of the bed was a railing and stairs leading down from this loft.

Everything was made of beautiful wood—the walls and slanted ceiling, the floorboards, the bed frame, the nightstands, the mounted shelves, and the long dresser against the wall in front of her. Brass electric lanterns stood on the nightstands, creating that golden glow. Old books, small antlers, pinecones, and an assortment of trinkets filled the shelves. The warm, dark red of the rug and the sage green of the bedding fit perfectly with the cabin aesthetic.

But there were no pictures to give any clues as to who lived here.

Mina tossed the covers aside and scooted to the edge of the bed until her sock-covered feet touched the floor. The chill of the air made her skin prickle, sending a shiver through her. Crossing her arms, she rubbed them with her palms as she padded to the dresser. Her clothes lay atop it in a neatly folded pile.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she muttered as she pulled on her jeans and sweater.

Grasping the hem of her top, she stretched it out and looked down at her side—where the knife had pressed into her. There wasn’t even a speck of blood. Brow furrowing, Mina ran her fingers over the knitted material. Some of the stitches were large enough that a knife might’ve slipped through without causing damage, but what were the odds of that?

“I know it happened,” she whispered.

Hadn’t it?

With a sigh, she glanced around the room. Her purse was nowhere to be seen.

Mina made her way toward the stairs and looked down into a wide-open living space. A pair of sofas and a coffee table stood at the center, perpendicular to the large stone fireplace, with another red area rug beneath them. The windows and glass door along the wall looked out over a deck and the snowy landscape beyond it, which dipped to a wide, flat area beneath the dark sky. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at a frozen lake.

The smell of tomato sauce intensified as Mina descended the steps, and when she reached the bottom, she could hear the gentle bubbling of boiling water. Both the sound and the smell came from her left, where an open doorway beneath the loft led into a kitchen.

Flooded with unease, she paused before reaching the opening.

Who was in the kitchen? Who had brought her here, undressed her, and was now cooking pasta of all things? She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and clutched her hands against her belly, struggling to quiet her growing anxiety and fear.

Calm down, Mina. Whoever they are, they helped you, right? So why would they hurt you now? It’s not like you woke up locked in some creepy basement or chained to the bed.

Taking in a deep, fortifying breath, Mina quietly approached the opening, curled her fingers around the doorframe, and peered inside. Her eyes widened.

A man stood in profile in front of the counter to the left. But he wasn’t just any man.

He was Viktor Novak.

Viktor turned his head toward Mina, and his silver eyes locked with hers.

“It’s you,” Mina breathed.

I am in Viktor’s house. Viktor’s house.

I was in his bed.

She tightened her fingers on the doorframe. What had happened? Why was she here?

Dark blue jeans hugged his legs, and his black T-shirt molded to his chest. His black hair hung loose down his back. And it was long. So, so long. She had a sudden urge to comb her fingers through it, to smooth her palms over it, to feel the strands brush across her bare skin.

“How do you feel, Mina?” he asked as he looked her over.

“How do I…” Mina blinked and shook her head. “What’s going on? Why was I in your…your bed? Why am I in your house? Something happened, but I… It’s all very fuzzy, but I know I was attacked last night.”

So why was there no evidence of the assault?

“That’s a lot of questions.” He turned away and plucked up an empty spaghetti box from the counter, turning it so the instructions faced him. After a moment, he glanced at the digital clock on the stovetop, which read eight thirty-five.

He set the box down, moved to the stove, and switched off the burner. Wrapping a dishtowel around the handle, he carried the pot of steaming water to the sink and poured its contents out into a waiting colander.

Why wasn’t he answering her? Why was he acting like everything was perfectly normal?

With steam wafting around his face, Viktor glanced at Mina. “These go together, yes? The spaghetti and the sauce?”

Mina’s brow furrowed. “Yes… What is going on, Viktor?”

“I’m feeding you. You said this sauce is your favorite.”

Okay, that’s…sweet?

Focus, Mina! Back to the many, many questions at hand.

She stepped into the kitchen. “But why am I even here to begin with?”

He raised the colander to shake out the remaining water before returning the pasta to the pot. “Because you were attacked last night.” Placing the colander in the sink, he removed the lid from a small pot on the stove and curled his fingers around the handle. “Do I pour the sauce onto the spaghetti?”

Mina approached him and placed her hand over his, guiding the pot back to the stove. “Viktor.”

Viktor stilled, and again his eyes fixed on her. They were intimidating, mesmerizing, piercing, and completely unreadable.

“Why am I here and not in the hospital?” she asked. “I mean, not that I feel any pain, which is really weird considering I swore I was stabbed, and my head should be killing me. Actually, I should have a concussion. But…no hospital, no police?”

Releasing the pot, he took hold of Mina’s hand and turned toward her. His hand was so warm, and though he towered over her, his size didn’t make her feel threatened. His nearness, his touch, his very presence, made her feel…safe.

“I’ve taken care of all that,” he said. “That male will not harm you further.”

That male? Who talks like that?

Not important.

There was someone. I was attacked.

“He was arrested? They got him?”

“Doesn’t matter. He received the message.”

“I…don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Again, he glanced at the clock. “The police have probably collected him by now, but he’ll need medical attention before they do much with him.”

The growl, the sounds of a fight…

Mina gaped up at him. “You beat him up?”

Neither his expression nor the indecipherable light in his eyes changed. “He’s fortunate that he’s still breathing.”

Oh God. Did that mean that Viktor had nearly killed the man? Because of her?

A burst of anxiety had her pulse racing and her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Her hand trembled. “Viktor you… The police…”

He placed his free hand over her heart, and a low rumble rose from his chest. “Easy, Mina. You’re safe.”

“B-But what about you? Won’t they be looking for you after?—”

Viktor’s hand darted up, catching her jaw. Mina’s breath hitched, and her eyes widened.

“I was not there. You were not there. Understand?” His low, commanding voice bristled with menace barely held in check, and his hold on her jaw, while not painful, remained firm. She felt something else beside the press of his fingers—sharp pricks against her skin. Like…claws?

But that couldn’t be right.

“Are you going to hurt me?” she asked softly.

Slowly, he dipped his head, moving his face closer to hers. When their noses were nearly touching, he drew in a deep breath and hummed. “That would be a shame.”

Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to try to break away; she could only stare into his eyes as he held her there. Mina should’ve been terrified of this man and the way he was touching her, the way he was talking.

But her body reacted in a very different way. Arousal flickered low in her belly, and her nipples hardened into aching points. With him being this close, his rich, spicy scent clouded her senses, beckoning her to lean closer still, to bury her nose against his throat and breathe him in.

What is wrong with me?

Viktor lifted his fingers away, one by one, until only his thumb remained. It slid to her chin and teased her lower lip before he withdrew it too. “Go sit. You need to eat.”

Mina took a step back, relieved to put some distance between them. Her lower lip tingled in the aftermath of his touch.

Anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would be seeking an escape. Viktor had basically admitted to beating a man nearly to death. Not that the man hadn’t deserved a beating, but that was beside the point!

It was in Viktor’s eyes, in his body language—violence was not new for him. He’d done it before.

He might’ve even done worse.

Except he did it to save you, Mina. You weren’t murdered and buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the woods, you woke up safe and warm in his bed. And now he’s cooking you a meal.

But she also knew that him being nice so far didn’t mean he’d be nice forever.

So Mina did the only thing she could. She obeyed him.

Her gaze lingered upon Viktor before she turned, rounded the island counter, and walked to the dining table on the opposite side of the room. Her attention flicked to the closed door on her left as she pulled out a chair.

What did it lead to? A bedroom, a bathroom? A garage?

Outside?

She plopped down onto the chair a little harder than she’d meant to, making it scrape on the wood floor.

Her hands slapped down on the table in startlement, and her eyes flew to him. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Viktor asked without looking back at her as he took two plates down from a cupboard. He set both on the counter, picked up the spaghetti pot, and dumped a pile of pasta onto each plate.

“Nothing.” Mina worried at her bottom lip as she dragged her gaze away from him to look around the room.

While it was lit only by a single antler chandelier, which cast a warm glow over everything while leaving the edges of the room dim, the kitchen was still…inviting? Homey even. A long butcher block counter ran the length of the wall in front of Viktor, ending with the fridge tucked in the corner. There were all sorts of knickknacks, old kitchen gadgets, cast iron pans, and rustic kettles on display atop the cupboards. Pictures of wildlife and landscapes hung on the walls, and mason jars filled with vegetables and dried beans decorated the shelves.

She shifted her attention to the windows on the other side of the table. Though the overhead light should’ve reflected on the glass and made it difficult to see through, the dark, snowy world beyond was clearly visible—a gradual slope leading down to a dense fir forest.

Mina looked at the door again.

As if you could outrun him. Forget about it.

I wasn’t thinking about it!

Mina’s inner voice snorted.

And where would I go? We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t even have my boots!

“You wouldn’t get far,” Viktor said, jarring Mina from her thoughts.

Her eyes snapped toward Viktor to find him carrying the plates to the table, each mountain of spaghetti now topped with a very generous helping of sauce.

Mina’s cheeks flushed, and she hunched her shoulders. “I wasn’t thinking about running.”

He set the plates down, along with a pair of forks, before sitting across from her. “I know the look, Mina. If you want to fool me, learn to hide it better.”

She stared down at the spaghetti as her fingers fidgeted on her lap. “Do you kill people?”

Viktor slid his plate closer to himself and picked up his fork. “Eat, Mina. I’ll drive you home after you’re done.”

Eyes flaring in surprise, Mina looked at him. “You’re…you’re not keeping me captive for knowing too much? Not throwing me in the basement and locking me away? Wait, do you have a basement?”

He jabbed his fork into the mound of pasta before him. “I don’t think basement is the word. It’s more…a big hole?”

“You mean a crawlspace?”

“Sure,” he replied with a shrug.

“So you’re just letting me go?”

“Eat, Mina.”

He still hadn’t said whether he killed people…

Maybe it’s best I don’t know.

Mina tentatively picked up her fork. There was at least half a box of pasta piled on her plate, with more than half the jar of sauce, but she didn’t have an appetite. Still, she twirled her fork through the noodles, leaned forward, and took a bite.

The instant the sweet, savory flavor hit her tongue, a wave of nostalgia swept over her. She had a fleeting sense of sitting at her mom’s kitchen table in her pajamas, giggling over who could slurp up the longest noodle the fastest.

But it wasn’t Hannah Walker sitting across from Mina. It was Viktor Novak. A man who was far more dangerous than she or anyone in town had suspected.

Still, it was nice, in a way, to be sharing a meal with someone. To not feel so alone after years of eating by herself.

Sure, Mina. Just eating a spaghetti breakfast with a possible killer. Nothing wrong with that.

Totally freaking normal.

Mina peeked up. Viktor was watching her—or, more specifically, her mouth.

Brow furrowing, she wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

“No,” he replied, eyes unmoving.

Her lip tingled with the memory of his thumb stroking it.

She dropped her gaze to his sculpted mouth. His lower lip was just a little fuller than his upper, and they looked so inviting…

What would it feel like to have his lips upon hers? Would they be hard or soft? What would he taste like?

Seriously, Mina?

She bit her lip, hoping the slight pain would quell the tingling and distract her from thoughts of kissing, and forced her attention to her plate.

For a time, Mina shifted the food around with her fork, unable to bring herself to take another bite. Apart from the scrape of metal on porcelain and the soft squelching of the pasta, the room was silent, and that silence quickly became too much for her to take.

And even though she knew she shouldn’t have pried, knew she should’ve just had a few more bites, claimed she was full, and asked him to take her home, she couldn’t resist her own curiosity. He was like a wild tiger—dangerous and unpredictable, but all the more beautiful and intriguing for it.

She had to know more about him. Having spent a whole year wondering about Sullford’s newest arrival certainly didn’t help curtail that desire.

“So…what do you do when you’re not, you know, beating people up?” she asked.

Though Viktor had speared his spaghetti as though he’d intended to shovel half of it into his mouth in one go, he hadn’t actually eaten any yet. “Either threaten people with beatings or think about beating them up.”

Mina blinked at him. He stared back, the corner of his mouth quirked.

She huffed a little laugh. “You’re joking.”

He didn’t answer.

Mina’s smile faded. “That was a joke, right?”

That hint of a smirk remained on his lips.

Maybe he wasn’t joking…

“Okaaay… What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“I am…” He lifted a hand, palm up, fingers loosely curled as though grasping at something. “Retired.”

Mina side-eyed him. “You’re pretty young to be retired.”

Viktor snickered. “I was very good at what I did.”

“Maybe it’s best I don’t know what you did.” She looked down at her food and tried not to let her imagination run wild and fill in the extremely large blanks he’d left open.

“It was business. Just business.”

Mina picked up her fork and pointed the saucy utensil at him. “Says every shady person with something to hide.”

That smirk of his widened, and something sparked in his eyes—not that they became any easier to read. “I have many things to hide. But everyone has something to hide, don’t they? Even you, Mina.”

Warmth spread across her cheeks, and she absently twirled her utensil through the noodles. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Says every shady person with something to hide.”

“You’re the one deflecting.”

She hated that his chuckle was so sexy, hated that it made her feel things low down in her belly.

He propped an elbow on the table and leaned toward her. “You didn’t answer my question earlier, Mina. How do you feel?”

Her brow creased. “I feel…good.” Releasing the fork, Mina sat back in her chair. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Viktor canted his head. Strands of his long, dark hair shifted, falling over his shoulder. “You prefer to feel bad?”

“No, but after what happened…” She shook her head, recalling the pain of the knife sinking into her side. “He stabbed me. I felt it. I remember it. But there’s…nothing there.”

Mina pressed her fingers to her forehead. “There’s not even a bruise where my head hit the window. It’s like…like it never happened at all. But I know it did.”

“It happened.”

The unexpected gentleness in his voice caught Mina off guard. It was almost like he was trying to comfort her. Almost.

“Then where are my wounds?”

“You’re just tougher than you think.”

“Viktor, that doesn’t?—”

“Eat, Mina.” He nodded toward her plate.

Mina glanced at the heaping pile of spaghetti. As good as it tasted, she just couldn’t stomach more. “I’m not hungry. But…thank you. For making it.”

Viktor’s gaze lingered on her, giving her the sense that he saw through her, that he already knew everything about her.

Which made her suddenly realize something.

Viktor had been the one who undressed her while she was unconscious.

An embarrassed flush spread over her skin.

He abruptly pushed away from the table and rose. “Let’s go.”

As Mina watched him stride toward the fridge, her stomach twisted into knots. Had she angered him? She hadn’t meant to seem ungrateful. She was thankful that Viktor had been there to help her last night, thankful that he’d taken care of her, that he’d cooked her breakfast. But this was all so…strange. Something was off. Something wasn’t right.

Well, besides the fact that Viktor seemed to have a very dark, morally questionable past.

As she pushed her chair back and stood, Viktor opened the fridge and pulled out a few canvas bags.

Mina’s bags.

Her eyes widened. “You brought my groceries?”

Viktor paused, glanced at the bags, and arched a thick, dark eyebrow.

“It’s just thoughtful, is all,” Mina said.

He offered a shallow nod, shifted the bags into one hand, and moved to a small console table beside the closed door. After collecting his keys from a tray atop the table, he opened the drawer and retrieved another familiar bag from within—Mina’s purse.

A tidal wave of relief washed over her.

She rounded the dining table and walked to Sevik, taking her purse and clutching it to her chest when he held it out to her. “Thank you.”

Opening the door, he stepped through into a small, dark room. Mina followed him, blinking at the sudden brightness when he flicked on the lights. A washer and dryer stood against the wall to the right. There was another door to the left, this one with a window that looked out at a black pickup truck parked in the shelter of a carport. Straight ahead, coats hung from a wall- mounted coat rack that had a bench beneath it. Several pairs of boots and shoes were tucked away under the bench.

Thankfully, Mina’s coat and boots were there.

Mina sat on the bench as they put on their boots. Once she was done, she rose and pulled on her coat, barely getting it over her shoulders before he opened the door.

Frigid air swept into the room. Shivering, Mina quickly zipped her coat. However chilly the inside of his house felt, it was nothing compared to the temperature outside.

And Viktor didn’t so much as flinch at the cold. He walked out, descended a couple steps, and opened the back door of the truck.

“Do you, uh, want to grab a coat?” she asked, hesitating at the threshold.

“No.” He placed her groceries on the back seat, closed the door, and entered the vehicle on the driver’s side.

“Okay then,” she muttered as she slipped the handles of her purse to the crook of her elbow. “He can freeze his tush off. That’s his choice. Won’t bother me.”

The truck rumbled to life.

The freezing air stung her nose and throat as she hurried to the vehicle. She climbed into the cab, and his scent enveloped her the instant she shut the door. No other smell diluted it now; there was only Viktor’s pure, intoxicating, spicy fragrance.

The things that scent did to her body…

How was that possible? It was an aphrodisiac, a drug, and Mina just wanted to breathe it in deeper. She’d never been addicted to anything in her life, but this? She was already hooked.

Mina drew in shallow breaths through her mouth as she buckled her seatbelt, but there was no escape, not even when she tucked her nose behind the collar of her coat.

As the truck rolled along the driveway, she kept her gaze averted from Viktor, trying to focus on the dark, snowy world outside. Trying to tell herself that her coat hadn’t picked up some of his scent.

But of course it had.

I’ll just run it through the wash later.

Sure you will, Mina. Sure.

Trying to distract herself, she looked at Viktor. “Where did you move from?”

“Far away.”

“Do you have family here?”

“No.”

“Any friends? Business partners? A significant other?”

“No.”

Mina wrinkled her nose. “You’re bad at this.”

His eyes flicked toward her, their silver oddly reflective in the instrument panel’s glow. “Where I’m from, people don’t ask so many questions.”

Mina tilted her head. “Sounds like a very lonely, very unhappy place.”

There was a subtle shift in his brows as he stretched his fingers and curled them tighter around the steering wheel. “Probably.”

She studied him quietly. His accent definitely wasn’t American or Canadian. Sometimes he sounded Russian or Eastern European, but she knew that wasn’t quite right either. Wherever he’d come from, his refusal to answer questions about his past suggested that he was trying to get away from it.

There’d been many times when Mina had longed to do the same. Sullford was where she’d been born, where she’d grown up. It held all her happy memories of her parents. The hills where they’d gone sledding, the forest where they’d searched for their Christmas tree every year, the diner where they’d had breakfast every Sunday morning, the river where they’d gone fishing.

All that had changed when her father died.

Those memories were all she had left of her parents, and Sullford was filled with little reminders of them. Leaving this town would’ve been like saying goodbye to her parents forever. Without these places, how long would it be before her memories faded? How long would it be before she forgot their smiles, their love, before she forgot them? That was the main reason she’d stayed.

Because what had Sullford done for her since? It was a town full of people who, seeing Hannah Walker and her daughter devastated and impoverished by loss, had chosen to judge, gossip, and harass. A town full of people who had taken advantage of Hannah’s desperation and then turned around and called her a whore. When they came to Mina’s shop, they acted like they’d always been friendly and supportive, and they offered her their pity and backhanded compliments like she should’ve been grateful for them.

The only person who’d actually cared through that long, difficult time, the only person who’d actually helped, had left town years ago.

Mina settled back against the seat and looked out the side window. “It’s lonely here for me too.”

Only the sound of snow crunching beneath the truck’s tires filled the silence as they drove. Mina stared out the window, looking at the landscape but not really seeing it. Sometimes, she felt Viktor’s gaze upon her, felt its weight, its intensity. But she didn’t turn his way.

It was only when the truck came to a stop and Viktor shifted it into park that she realized where they were—her driveway. Her brow furrowed as she stared at her SUV, which was parked in her usual spot and covered in a layer of snow.

Like it had been there all night.

She looked at Viktor. “How…”

“I told you, Mina”—he turned his head to meet her gaze, his face again unreadable—“I took care of everything.”

He had told her, but Mina couldn’t have guessed how thorough he’d been.

I was not there. You were not there. Understand?

What kind of life had Viktor led before coming here?

Mina nodded. Whatever he’d done, he’d saved her life last night, and she was grateful for that.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Mina opened the door and slipped out of the truck. Her boots sank into the snow. Shouldering her purse, she retrieved her grocery bags from the back seat and looked up at Viktor. He was watching her.

“Thank you,” she said. “For helping me and, well, not being some creepy murderer who chained me up in his basement.”

He chuckled. “Only because it’s a hole, not a basement.”

Mina’s brow arched. “Not sure if that makes me feel better, but I guess I’ll take it. Tying me to the bed would have been another option.”

Did I seriously just say that out loud?

A slow, sultry grin spread across his lips, and his eyes gleamed.

“ Okaythanksbye! ” Mina slammed the door and rushed to the back entrance of her building. Her face burned so hot that she wondered how the snow around her hadn’t melted.