Page 81 of Boss

“Let’s go back inside. Get you by the fire. Let me deal with this,” he said.

Together they walked in. She was right. No one was coming out to his land any time soon. Not if the rest of the city was in this state. It was the first time the guilt of his actions immobilized him. He’d gotten them into this mess. He had to find a way to dig them both out, and soon. Inside the front room facing the property, she stood before the fire. She didn’t bother to take off his jacket. She only removed his workman’s gloves. He shed his heavy wool three-quarter inch coat and tossed it to the leather chair.

“Maybe we start with some breakfast. How’s steak and eggs sound?”

She glanced back at him and laughed, “Fine, but no hot sauce, and light on the seasoning please.”

“I’m telling you it’s good that way,” Tarek smiled.

“I’m sure it is, but give my poor throat and stomach a break.”

“I’ll make it special just for you,” he said and walked out.

39.

Kassidy watched him go. Last night she’d learned a lot about her past and herself. Nothing in her life was at it seemed, including Tarek. Today she was back where she started, confused and desperate for all of the drama to end. Would he call the police on her still? Would he let her go and they never spoke again? What happened next? Not only was he supposed to be the enemy, but things had gone from bad to dire with the weather. How would it all end? The electricity was out. The land was covered in thick snow, and they had no communication with the world.

Defeated by the conflict she dropped down in the chair before the fire. She removed the cowboy hat he gave her, and set it to the lamp table to her left. What did she have now if she didn't have Tarek Marshall to blame?

After reflecting on her lack of options, Kassidy stood and paced the floor. She glanced around her surroundings and cringed. Mounted on the walls were the heads of boars, deer, and even a bear. Hunter trophies. She left the room and decided to wait for him in the parlor. There was a fire blazing inside to keep her moderately warm.Like a moth to a flame she was drawn to the bookcase. She saw that it held many books, most of them on hunting and farming. She walked over to the shelf and checked out several. What caught her attention was in the back corner. It was a scrapbook. She drew it down and took it back to the sofa.

Inside she found the history of the Marshall family, all the way back to horse wrangling and bootlegging. She thumbed through the photos, pausing at a few. And then she stopped. There was an image of Alek Marshall as a younger man. He sat on a sofa. One man sat to his left and the other to his right. In the background was an image of a woman holding a small child. The image cut off the lady’s face. All that was seen of her was arms and the golden bracelets on her wrists. Something about the photo caught her eye. She wasn’t sure. The man to Alek’s left gave a partial smile to the photographer. He looked a lot like another version of Tarek. The other man was older, with silver hair.

Kassidy removed the photo. There was only a date on the back. It said 1981. Daniel often ranted about the Marshall’s history. He really hated Tarek. Daniel said Alek Marshall used Tarek to shield himself and his birth sons, because he wasn’t his biological kid.

Exactly what had happened to make the Marshalls adopt an orphan out of Russia? Kassidy went to the kitchen. She found Tarek with steaks sizzling in the frying pan. He was again over seasoning the food. And the flame under the pan was turned up far too high. She swallowed a smile.

Tarek busied himself with cutting onions. He didn’t immediately see her.

“Hey?” she said.

He glanced up. “Be ready in a few. Fridge won’t keep much longer. I took out the rest of the steaks. It’s colder inside of here than in there.” He pointed his knife at the fridge.

“Have you ever seen this picture before?” she put the Polaroid in his face.

He squinted at the photo.

She waited.

“No, looks like my Pops.”

“Yeah, and the other men, do you know who they are?” she asked. He glanced at the picture and then her. She saw disinterest in his eyes.

“I’m not trying to dig up dirt on you,” she reassured him.

“Right? Because you wouldn’t dare try to uncover the Marshall’s family secrets,” he said.

“Look at this picture. What do you see?” she raised it again.

He glanced to the picture. He then looked to her. “I see my father with friends nothing more. Kassandra, we’re stuck here for now and we can be civil if we work hard at it. But if you keep pushing me—”

“Fine,” Kassidy went to the fridge and used the magnet to pin the photo there. “I won’t push. It’s your funeral.” She told him, before she turned and walked out.

Tarek looked over at the photo. He shook his head and continued to fry the steaks. When he was done with breakfast he had already lost his appetite. He leaned against the counter. And once again his gaze drifted over to the fridge. He walked over, and gave another long hard look at the image. It was his father. That was certain. The other man was Kovalevsky. He wouldn’t dare name him for Kassidy. And that wasn’t what disturbed him. It was the man to his father’s left side that he’d never really noticed before in family photos. Soon he saw what Kassidy saw, and he didn’t like it one bit.

40.

They ate their meal in silence. Kassidy kept peeking up at him. Spying as he moved things around with his fork before Tarek abandoned the meal altogether with his steak half eaten. “What if my Pops knew my biological father? So what! Doesn’t prove anything over 30 years later and it sure as hell doesn’t make what you’re saying true.”

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