Vicious Justice

by Tobi Doyle

  Large tattooed hands tossed Herndon aside. They returned and cupped my chin. The gentle action eased a breath, and then another. “Take slow breaths.” A gruff command twisted with concern. A fierce face hovered. Angry eyes glowered above sharp cheekbones and lips curled, more feral than man. Thor! He stalked toward Herndon. His fists blurred.

  Herndon’s body slapped against the brick wall; his yelp sharp and piercing. Two punches fired at Herndon’s gut. Air whooshed out of him, the sound louder than the ringing in my ears. Herndon slumped against the wall, and the crack of knuckles against his jaw resounded. The hollow thunk of his head against the asphalt ricocheted down the alley. Herndon crumpled, pooling at the feet of my savior.

  Alexei Bykov in Armani armor. My guardian angel.

  Pain blurred my vision, and I closed my eyes. I fought the rising nausea, and breathed in slow breaths that smelled like asphalt, and garbage, and Herndon. Darkness pushed against me, pushed away the pain and nausea and I let it in.

  I awoke inside a strange car. A wool jacket surrounded me in warmth. Panic flooded my body, and I curled up tight, ignoring the pain in favor of presenting a smaller target.

  “You’re safe. The worst is over,” Bykov’s warm tone was subdued, and I believed him.

  My throat burned, and my scream fizzled into a whisper. My fight left. My body, weak from violence and fear, shut down. My purse sat beside me with my driver’s license on top, my picture winking at me with the vibration of the moving car. I couldn’t manage anger or fear.

  “Where are you taking me?” The words scraped my throat.

  “Home.” He glanced my way, quick, assessing. “Unless you want me to take you to the hospital.”

  I jerked my head to say no, but my neck muscles fought movement. “No.”

  “I am sorry you are hurt. I should have been there sooner.”

  The words made no sense.

  His jaw clenched like he was chewing on words rather than saying them. “Do you live with someone? You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

  Thor knew concussion protocol. That was nice. I swallowed. “Yes. How long was I unconscious?”

  His hands rested on the wheel, tattoos dancing under the lights of the streetlamps. “A minute, no more.”

  “Thank you for saving me.”

  He grunted, a begrudging acceptance.

  I looked out the window, bright lights aggravated my dull headache. A small drummer set up a steady bass beat in my ears, reverberating in my head, and vibrating in my fingers and toes.

  He pulled into my neighborhood. I relaxed my legs and my body unfolded. The scents of leather and sandalwood tickled my brain. My feet touched the soft carpet of the floor mats, and I flinched, setting off a thousand bees stinging.

  “What is it?” He faced me, worry laced his tone.

  “I lost my shoe.” Crap. “And my keys”

  “I’ll get them. Don’t concern yourself.”

  Why would he do that? Thoughts plodded through my brain searching for the reason until it clicked. “I should call the police.”

  He chuffed, like a bull chiding a matador. “Do you think they’d believe you? Herndon is the District Attorney. He’d say you set him up.”

  “But… There are probably cameras…”

  Cameras that caught Herndon attacking me. And Thor attacking Herndon.

  His eyebrow rose, an unspoken retort about my naiveté and the unfairness of life. “There are none. It is why he chose that place. Do you think you are the first? Do you think, after his friends at the police have finished with you, the truth will matter?” His matter-of-fact delivery didn’t correlate with the heated fury in his eyes. “Let me handle this. Say nothing to the police.”

  Reality was cold, and it left me frozen, my teeth chattering. Herndon was the DA. Untouchable.

  And knocked out in an alley. Maybe dead.

  Did I care?

  “Trust me.”

  “Is he dead?” I whispered.

  “Would it bother you if he was?” His tone told me he knew my answer was no. His gaze confirmed it.

  I clutched his jacket closer, wrinkling the fine fabric. I mustered a look I reserved for rude salesclerks.

  He sighed. “He’s alive. For now.” The icy threat clung in the air. “It would be better if you forgot everything that happened this night.” He parked in front of my house. “Say nothing to the police. Yes?”

  “Okay.” I practically swallowed the word, it felt wrong to say it. I pushed his jacket off and picked up my purse. “Thank you. Again.” I forced a smile past the aches, past the exhaustion, past the dread, all the way to my face. I wanted to ask him why he was there but changed my mind. Like he said, it was better to forget.

  “Goodbye.” His final word to me, said like a lover leaving forever.

  I walked toward my house, my knees stung with each step. I survived.

  I pulled the spare key hidden in the wind chime and unlocked the door. Elena, my sister, wasn’t home, and I appreciated the reprieve of explaining my appearance. I hadn’t been hit in four years, but the instinct to hide and cower still overwhelmed me. In the shower, with the water set to scald, I washed the night away. My softest pajamas comforted me, and I curled up in bed with an ice pack on my face. But Herndon was there, too—crazy and wild-eyed—until silenced by my angel.

  Chapter Three

  Panic crushed me in the darkness, hands at my neck and abrasive asphalt biting my back. The night splintered, dark pierced by light, an intimidating figure hovered above. Sandalwood scents and swirling tattoos transported me to safety. My eyes flew open, my heart stuttering in my chest, and the dull ache at my throat flared against an involuntary swallow for air. I wiped my damp hands against the bedsheets, balling them up, spreading them out, and clinging to the reality the dream was over. I was safe. My body vibrated with anxiety. I exhaled and slowly released the tension in my shoulders.

  Morning light invaded my room. I needed coffee.

  I crept past Elena’s bedroom and into the kitchen, tightening my robe against the chill of the morning. My morning ritual of making coffee whisked away the lingering memories of my dream leaving me with the unsettling reality that last night happened. Herndon had attacked and been attacked. And now, I’d wait for the consequences. Would Herndon be like my father and retaliate with his fists or would he avoid me? Forgetting was impossible. Glancing out the kitchen window I saw my car parked over the oil spot on the driveway. My guardian angel delivered my car, and hopefully my shoe, removing any evidence I was in the alley.

  My slippers crunched on the frost-covered driveway, and my breath swirled around me, a ghostly reminder I was alive. The car door was unlocked. I slid into the front seat and found my keys tucked under it. My Barbie-pink pepper spray turned out to be an ineffective key-fob. My shoe laid on the floor, scuffed beyond repair, and the heel bent at an awkward angle. It didn’t matter. I’d destroy my clothes from last night. I headed back inside and tossed the shoe into the garbage can. Elena stood in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “Morning.” Her back was to me. She pulled a second cup down from the cupboard and poured me a cup. She turned and the cup slipped from her hand, spilling on the counter until she righted it. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I need coffee, but yeah, I’m okay.” My voice ground against my ears, and the words burned my sore throat.

  Elena mopped up the liquid, staring at me, the towel missing most of the mess. Her brown eyes flicked over me, and I squirmed.

  “Are those bruises on your neck?” Elena crowded me, pulling the neck of my robe open. Air hissed between her teeth. “Adri, what happened?”

  “I was mugged.” I dropped my shoulder and scooted past her scooping up the coffee and savoring the first sip.

  “Did you call the police?”

  “And say what? They couldn’t do anything and I just wanted to come home.”

  “Do you need to get checked out? He didn’t…” Her mouth opened an
d closed, and then sealed tight. The question was there—did he rape you—but never spoken. Never. A habit, unbroken.

  “No. He got scared off by a noise.” I took another sip of coffee, moving on, avoiding the past, and needing a subject change.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my neck, the warmth from my hand soothing the tender skin.

  “You’re gonna need some serious makeup.” Her expression told me I’d need more makeup than a corpse.

  I could have died last night. I pushed the thought away. It was over. I was safe.

  “Will you help me?”

  “Sure.” She smiled, and better than a caffeine boost, my mood lightened.

  I sat on the end of my bed and Elena sponged the foundation on my neck. It was horrifyingly reminiscent of our adolescence. Both of us experts at hiding bruises, adept at avoidance, bonded tighter than twins.

  “Could you recognize him?” she asked gently.

  The truth slid up, but then the image of Herndon, the memory of his fingers crushing, cinched my throat tight, and the words stuck, sharp and painful.

  “I’m sorry,” Elena whispered. “I… if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.” The promise eased my ache, and I squeezed her hand.

  The pancake makeup covered the bruises without making it look like I was hiding a mustache. Elena did something with my eye makeup and my eyes appeared bigger, prettier. More like hers. A brightly colored scarf coordinated with my long-sleeved tunic, and paired with leggings hid the rest of my injuries. I left my hair down, curling the ends so they fanned out over my back.

  Elena checked me over and gave me a thumbs up. “You look good. I hate that this happened.”

  “Me, too.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “I’m working tonight, but I can switch shifts.”

  “No, don’t do that. Saturday’s your best night for tips at the bar.” I gave her a quick hug. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Text me if you change your mind.”

  In my car, I recited a quick prayer before inserting the key and turning the engine over. It started on the first try, unusual, but maybe it was being nice. I pushed the seat forward so I could reach the pedals.

  He drove my car.

  The thought of him, really more Nordic god than angel, scrunched into the tiny Kia made me cringe. The car whined in reverse. I switched to drive and a loud clunk came from the transmission followed by a few huffs as it chugged down the street. Near work, I drove around the block a few times looking for a spot closer and parked. Kendra sat on the couch drinking coffee watching the local morning news show in the salon’s reception area. Today, Kendra’s honey-blonde hair was pulled into a professional ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her makeup–understated and perfect. Kendra looked every bit the California girl, although she was a transplant from Minnesota.

  “I want to be rich, Adri. Look at this.” She pointed to the television screen. “You get to have dinner with the mayor, dress up, and sit next to Thor.”

  It was him.

  “When was that?” My voice sounded strange, but she didn’t notice.

  “Last night. Your client is gorgeous, and totally intimidating, but I’d drop my panties if he asked.”

  I nodded, numb and transfixed by the picture of Bykov in a tuxedo, a pixie plastered against him.

  The newscaster, a twenty-something, too perky to be real, continued with the details. Alexei Bykov, San Francisco’s most eligible bachelor, was accompanied by runway model, Sonia Hejlstrom. The two make a gorgeous couple, don’t they? The evening raised over a hundred thousand dollars for a local women’s shelter.

  “Where was it?” I asked.

  “At his restaurant, Konstantin’s.” Kendra sighed. “Have you seen that place? Jeremy said we could go on our anniversary. For drinks. I doubt we could afford a whole meal.”

  “Huh.” My non-committal grunt caught her attention.

  She turned and looked at me. Her eyes narrowed and my heart rate picked up. A slow smile grew on her face. “You look so pretty. I love your eye makeup.”

  “Thanks, Elena did it.”

  “Aw, that was sweet.”

  I grinned, my next breath easier and filled with pride. “She’s pretty great.”

  The door opened, chiming, bringing in the street noise and my first client of the day, Mrs. Klein, along with Michelle, another stylist, and Haley, our receptionist. The busy morning kept my mind off last night. I liked most of my clients. The mornings were more like a coffee club, the ladies discussing books or favorite television shows. I got several compliments on my makeup, and they seemed sincere. It wasn’t a ‘you look so different’ with a close inspection, followed by a sympathetic smile.

  I checked my makeup and rotated my scarf hiding the foundation stains before heading out for lunch. “I’m going to the dollar store, anyone want anything? I can stop by the deli.”

  There was a chorus of no. I headed down the block, to the bargain store located next to City Deli. I wished for a thick roast beef sandwich, but knew I’d buy a cup of noodles instead.

  The store overflowed with items. Shelves and stands by the door held newspapers, sunglasses, and phone chargers. Inside, I made my way to the grocery aisle, packed with canned goods and pastas. In the narrow aisle, I stood, debating between the sodium contents of chicken or shrimp ramen when a shadow fell over me. I straightened, side-stepped closer to the claustrophobic back of the store.

  “Adrianna.” My name spoken deep and rumbly.

  Air wheezed from my chest and I looked into Alexei’s golden brown eyes. Last night, he’d been feral. Today, he looked… intense.

  He reached out and touched my chin, tilting it up in the yellowing light of the old overhead fluorescents. “I didn’t think you’d go to work today.”

  I nodded, surprise slowing my brain-to-mouth abilities.

  He drew back his hands and stuffed them in his pockets, making his shoulders square. Angular features of his face turned downward, harsh disapproval evident in the grim line of his mouth.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His quiet voice was difficult to hear.

  “I’m fine.” I swallowed, ignoring the burn. “Thank you for dropping off my car and shoe.”

  His eyes flared, and I saw a flash of a wild animal in his eyes that he leashed quickly. “Your car is shit.” His accent was thicker, his eyebrow cocked, daring me to argue.

  I didn’t. “It is. I’m impressed you got it home. It can be…”

  He growled, and his hand reached out to the shelf, effectively blocking me in. His more than six-foot frame hulked in the aisle and I instinctively shrank, needing more space around me.

  He dropped his hand and stepped back. “I would never hurt you.” The words were rushed, quick to assure me. His head cocked to the side, and his angular face softened, more human, approachable.

  “I know.” And I did. He was intimidating, but not dangerous. At least, not to me. “I saw you on TV this morning. How did you find time to get my car to my house?”

  “I didn’t drive your car. The timing was difficult. Daniel—”

  “What?” My voice pinched, and a buzz started at the base of my neck. I stepped closer, my neck craning. “What about ’say nothing’?”

  He waved his hand.

  Dismissing me? The buzz ignited to anger. My hip cocked out and my hands fisted.

  His lips twitched. “Kotyonok, I trust him with my life.”

  “Yeah? That must be nice for you.” He had henchmen. Who would leave a rapist unconscious in an alley and then attend a party?

  Serial killer much?

  “Adrianna.” This time he drew my name out, more like a plea to placate a toddler.

  Yeah… nope. I ducked around him and headed to the entrance the store. I pulled a five dollar bill out of my purse and waited to be rung up. He stood, his presence unmistakable behind me. It didn’t send alarming tingles down my spine. No, dammit
. Apparently, I found prospective serial killers attractive on some level because I was intrigued. All that therapy and still so screwed up. I stuffed my change into my purse along with the noodles and headed back to the salon.

  Thor dogged my steps.

  I stopped and faced him. “Alexei, why are you here?”

  “Alyosha.” His words were silky against my skin.

  “What?”

  “Alyosha. I want you to call me Alyosha. Alexei is formal name.”

  He held out his hand, and my smaller one fit inside, instinctively returning the polite gesture. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. Soft as satin, his lips pressed a chaste kiss against my skin, but his eyes promised they were capable of so much more.

  And I was warm. Swirling heat, twisting with confusion and common sense and warring with lust overwhelmed my ability to think. It was uncomfortable, the wanting, the wanting to leave. “Alyosha,” I repeated, my voice low and husky. “I have to get back to work.”

  He released my hand and took the heat with him. Leaving me itchy, my skin too sensitive in my clothes. I rolled my shoulders back, put a practiced smile on my face. “Thank you again.”

  “You are welcome.” He stepped back, and like snipping strands of hair, I was able to fall away. I moved, one foot in front of the other, forcing my movement forward. Because common sense said to not look back.

  Chapter Four

  I have seen nuns wear less clothes. It didn’t matter, the woman had a confidence, a power, that made her alluring in spite of her clothes. Adrianna, her name musical, walked away, steps striking, moving gracefully with the pulse of the pedestrians. Her long dark hair swayed, making her march a sensual treat. I waited for her to turn. Willed it. But she stepped into the salon, and never looked back. I swallowed the sour disappointment.

  Daniel stepped out of the deli and handed a bag to me. He looked down the crowded street and back to me. He wore an I-told-you-so look on his college-fresh face. “I’m guessing that didn’t go as you planned.”

  I restrained my frustration. “It rarely does.”

  “So, we good here?” His head tipped side to side, his body in constant motion, all the time.