by Tobi Doyle
Alyosha’s intense eyes studied me. It could have been my imagination, but they softened with pity and concern and then burned amber with something completely different. Something that made my heart trip and steadied my stomach. Something that looked like desire and determination. Something that made me believe everything would be okay.
“I’m checking with Dima, my friend. There are two ways to handle this.” He opened the car door and sat in the passenger seat, pushing it back as far as it could go. He searched the glove compartment and took out the owner’s manual, my envelope with proof of insurance and the registration, a flashlight, and a strip of condoms.
“Those aren’t mine,” I said and pointed to the condoms. “I have a latex allergy. They might be Elena’s.”
“Okay.” He put the condoms aside. “I can have your car towed and searched, replace the glass, and destroy the drugs.”
“I like the sound of being done with this, immediately.” My body agreed, relief swooping in and making it easier to breathe.
“Or, we can drive your car into the garage, search it in there and you drive it home. When the police stop you, you can tell them the windshield was broken today and get a fix-it ticket. If they insist on searching the car, they won’t find anything.”
“I don’t like that idea.” I cringed. “If it’s a cop like my dad, you don’t know what will happen. They could just plant something else in my car. I don’t understand what do they want? And who the hell is they?”
Alyosha climbed out of the car. “If you drive your car home, we might get answers. At least we will know which cop is harassing you. Dima has connections to find out who is behind it, but we need to know which cop.”
“There’s a new detective on Herndon’s case. Morris. He came by my house yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Alyosha cupped my face, his stern tone was offset by the softness of his eyes.
“I don’t know. I think I hoped it was over and… He said he was going to get a warrant.” I leaned into the palm of his hand. The pressure against my cheek slowed my heart. “I would have called you if he returned.”
He hugged me. “I want you to call me. I’ll make sure my lawyer is there. Don’t answer any more questions without a lawyer present.” He stepped back. “What did he ask you?”
“He wanted to know if Herndon contacted me. I said no and he said he’d get a warrant. I closed the door on him.”
Alyosha’s eyes electrified. He glanced at my car. “This is related.” The low rumble of his voice trembled through my bones.
A part of me knew this was all connected to Herndon, that somehow I was involved or believed to be involved, and yet I’d been holding on to optimistic hope that I was wrong.
I really wanted to be wrong.
“Alyosha, I’m scared.” The admission made tears sting my eyes.
He frowned. “You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you, kotyonok.” His voice, sweetly tender, crept into my heart and squeezed.
I needed to believe him.
A motorcycle parked behind my car, followed by a black sedan identical to Alyosha’s. The sedan drove into the garage.
The motorcyclist removed his helmet and Daniel’s grave face looked at the car and then me. “What do you want me to do?” he asked Alyosha.
“We need to search the car. I’ll see if Dima thinks we should tow it or search it in the garage.”
“The garage has cameras,” I said.
“Really?” Alyosha asked.
“I asked if the car rental guy if they had cameras so I could see who did this and he said they only have cameras in the garage.”
“Okay.” He looked back at the garage and a man approached, dressed in black jeans and hooded grey sweatshirt. If a guy could come with hazard lights, he’d be flashing bright reds at me. He watched me with that kind of menacing interest that made me want to cross the street. The facial scar didn’t help.
Each step closer made me want to retreat. I stepped closer to Alyosha, and leaned my body against his.
“Dima, this is Adrianna.” Alyosha slid his arm over my shoulders.
Dima held out his hand, the friendly gesture at odds with the look of distrust on his face.
“Hello. I appreciate your help.” We shook hands, his warm and dry compared to my cold and sweaty palm.
He blinked, a shock of surprise disappeared quickly. “I’m helping Alyosha.”
My hand retreated at the verbal sting. “Got it.” Definitely didn’t need to add him to my Christmas card list.
He muttered something I couldn’t understand, his voice low and angry. He turned to Alyosha, and the two spoke rapid Russian. Daniel’s gaze bounced between Dima, Alyosha, and my car. Dima pulled a grocery bag from his hoodie pocket.
“Are grocery bags the must-have accessory for crime?” And what else was packed in that pocket?
“Hard to track. Burn fast.” Dima handed the bag to Daniel.
Daniel climbed in the backseat, donned black latex gloves, and searched my car. Evening traffic filled the street. Alyosha, Dima, and I stood on the sidewalk and leaned against the car. Dima and Alyosha scanned the street, focused on every parked car, and studied each pedestrian for a reaction.
“Call Finowitz. He drives with you,” Dima said to Alyosha. His withering glare descended on me. “You drive home tonight with them following. That makes it safer and we know which cop is working with Morris.”
My gut clenched. “Okay.” The word crawled out, not because I wanted it to, but because he was right.
“Tomorrow you get the marriage license. This shit is not going away.” Dima scrubbed his face, his finger traced the path of the scar.
“I don’t understand. Why would someone plant that in my car?” I wasn’t sure what “shit” he was referring to. “What will you do with the drugs?” I asked.
Dima’s eye rolling was elegant—subdued, subtle, and scathing. “That I cannot tell you. You are not family. You are not protected by spousal immunity.” He carefully annunciated the last two words, adding a bite to his disdain.
My mouth clamped shut, logic forcing me to hold back on the snark until after I was home, safe, and positive I didn’t need any more assistance from Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous. Alyosha wrapped his arm over my shoulders, supporting me. I’d missed his touch. “Wait, why can’t I just call the police here?” I asked.
“Because the closest cop will come. Maybe not the dirty cop.” Dima cut a look to Alyosha, I’m pretty sure he was vetoing the marriage idea because he found me too stupid to live.
“This is so complicated. Why go to this much trouble? I don’t know anything.” Crap, I was whining.
Dima rolled back on his heels, shoulders fortified, creating a wall of angry male. I burrowed closer to Alyosha. “You have something they want. Maybe information. Maybe something else. They will break you until you give it to them.”
His warning shuddered through me. “But I don’t,” I whispered.
Daniel knocked on the window and I looked. He held up a small revolver.
“Oh, shit,” I murmured.
“Not yours?” Alyosha asked.
“No. Definitely not,” I whispered.
“What did you do with your father’s guns?” Alyosha asked.
“We sold them.” Not legally, but then at that moment, I didn’t think that was my problem.
Alyosha nodded to Dima and the two spoke Russian in hushed tones, back and forth for several minutes. It didn’t sound like arguing, more like they were making plans. About me?
Drugs and a gun in my car. What the hell was going on? I nudged Alyosha. “They’re idiots, right? I mean I’m a freaking hair stylist. They plant drugs and weapons like I turned into Harley Quinn overnight?”
Dima raised one eyebrow.
Clarity slapped me upside the head. Not me. Not my gun. Not my drugs. But a weapon used in a crime. Alyosha’s number in my contacts. And I’d called him. Herndon was my client. Alyosha was
Mr. Connected’s friend. I was the Kevin Bacon in the Russian mafia-Herndon connection. They’d planted evidence against Dima. Using me. Using Alyosha.
They… could be Herndon, could be Dima’s enemy.
“I’m the victim here.” I stepped back. “How screwed up does someone have to be to think this is gonna work? I don’t know anything and I don’t have anything.”
Alyosha smirked. “And does that matter?”
Dima sneered, the scar on his face contorting. His gaze heated with hatred, seared me. “Both of us are guilty of having fucked up families, Adrianna.”
Dima’s posturing, his anger, wasn’t directed at me. He wanted control over the situation.
I did, too. “Fine. I’ll drive the car tonight.”
Alyosha stepped away and made a call, leaving me alone with Dima.
“He wants to keep you safe.” His tone was pure steel, all strength and sincerity.
“I know.”
“If you fuck him over, I will end you.”
“Got it.” I turned, mustered my don’t-fuck-with-me face. “Don’t expect dinner invitations.”
He tipped his head back and laughed, and the sound, honest, pure, relaxed, made me think there was part of him that was still human.
But that could have been the optimist in me.
Chapter Fifteen
My head jerked around at the sound of Dima’s laugh. Adrianna stood, rigid, but Dima’s head tipped back, his cautious eyes closed, his face relaxed. My chest expanded at the sight of them together.
“A prenup is normal. She won’t mind signing it.” Finowitz whined in my ear.
“We’ll discuss it in the car. When will you be here?”
“Fifteen maybe twenty minutes.”
“Make it five.” I ended the call and joined them at the car. I held Adrianna, enjoying the way she fit against me.
“What did Finowitz say?” Dima asked in Russian.
“He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
“That’s not all. What else?” Dima’s black eyes bored into me.
My arm tightened around Adrianna’s waist. She placed her hands over my arm, but didn’t push me away.
“He wants her to sign a prenup.” I spoke in Russian, my frustration bled into the words. I should not have to explain my intentions about Adrianna to my lawyer.
“He should focus on Misha’s VISA.”
“Exactly,” I said in English.
Adrianna pulled her phone out, and texted her sister. I’m bringing Alyosha home for dinner.
Elena texted back. Okay. Spaghetti?
“We can pick up food on the way.” I moved my lips close to her ear, placing a kiss. She softened in my arms.
“No, we can’t. I want to get this over with, and have a glass of wine, and watch something stupid on TV.”
She texted her sister. Sounds great. Thanks.
Daniel knocked on the window again, and we all stepped back. He slid out but left the bag in the car. “What’s next?”
Dima pulled his keys from his pocket. “You drive to her house and bring Finowitz back. Park my car at the club. I’ll be there when I can. Give me the motorcycle keys.” Dima held onto the keys and folded himself into the car. He stuffed the bag into his hoodie pocket, arranging the bulk to look more like a beer gut than contraband.
Daniel stuffed the gloves into the front pocket of his jeans. “Should I leave now or wait?”
Dima got out of the car. “Go now. We don’t want a fucking parade following her home.” His impatient tone seemed to strike Adrianna, and she pressed closer.
“Thank you, Daniel,” Adrianna said.
He gave a quick smile. “You’re welcome.” He jogged into the garage.
Dima headed to the motorcycle. Dima swung his leg over the motorcycle. He strapped the helmet on and nodded. I’ve got this, his eyes said.
Adrianna shivered when the motorcycle roared to life. The asshole in me took pleasure that she found comfort in my arms. A good man would make it so she never feared.
Dima wove through traffic, and turned right, headed to his storage unit.
“Kotyonok, the lawyer will be here in a few minutes. He will ask if you wish representation, say yes. Do not discuss what happened. He knows he will drive in my car, and we will follow you.”
“Okay.” She huffed, frustration furrows in her forehead. “I swear I have a larger vocabulary.”
I leaned my head against hers. “It’s been stressful. Let me stay with you tonight.”
She shook her head. “My bed isn’t big enough.”
My dick jumped at the idea of her laying on top of me all night. Her words replayed in my head, and it wasn’t a no. “We’ll be fine.”
Daniel honked as he drove away in Dima’s car.
I tipped her chin to look at me. “When you see my car at the garage exit, pull out, and I’ll follow you the entire way. If the police stop you, pull over. Do not get off the highway. If they want you to turn onto an exit, don’t.”
“Alright, but why?”
“They can charge you for evading arrest.”
Her head thunked against my chest. “You know, today started pretty good. The car started and everything.”
I rubbed her back. “I hate that car.”
“I know.”
A cab pulled to the curb, and Finowitz got out. He paid the cab driver, waited for a receipt, which he handed to me.
“Adrianna DelToro, Mr. Abe Finowitz, your lawyer,” I said.
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Ms. DelToro, do you wish for me to represent you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Excellent.” He released her hand and his beady eyes examined her closely.
“Give her your card, Finowitz,” I said, controlled. I wanted to poke his eyes out.
Finowitz heard the warning in my voice, and handed her his card, eyes downcast.
Adrianna cleared her throat. “I’ll just wait here for you, then.”
I leaned down, and kissed her lips. “I’ll be right behind you.” I turned to Finowitz. “This way.”
We were on the highway, five cars back, before he finally spoke. “She’s very pretty.”
“Yes.”
“She looks quite a bit younger than you.” His brown eyes danced in his doughy face.
I glared at him, my eyes going back to her car. “Finowitz, you are much better with law than people. Shut up.”
We were a few miles from the San Francisco County line. A police car passed the car on my left.
“You were right.” Finowitz placed a camera on the dashboard, and pushed the record button. He turned off the radio, motioning with his finger to be quiet.
A minute later the lights on the cruiser flashed. Adrianna signaled with her directional, and pulled over to the shoulder. The cruiser parked behind her. We rolled up behind him.
He got out of his car, faced us, and waved us off.
I shook my head, and pointed to the camera.
He walked toward us, wary eyes studying our movements.
I rolled down my window.
“Sir, why have you stopped on the shoulder?” The officer, young, reedy, and freckled looked too innocent to be corrupt.
Finowitz leaned toward me. “His fiancée is in the car you pulled over, and I’m her lawyer. Why have you pulled her over?”
“Her windshield is cracked.” The officer jutted out his chin, his hands rested on his belt.
Finowitz turned the camera, focusing on the officer, and his name badge, Thompson. “That’s amazing, considering you came from behind her car, and never had the opportunity to see her windshield.”
The officer looked like a kid caught with a six-pack of beer at three in the morning. He shifted back. “I was going to issue her a fix-it ticket.”
“We’ll be right here watching you do that,” Finowitz said in a tone that would make the Pope feel guilty.
The officer stalked over to Adrianna’s car. He didn’t ask
her to exit the car, and fifteen minutes later she signaled to get back on the freeway.
“Thank you. You are very good at what you do.” I texted: stopped by Thompson, 20s male, to Dima’s phone.
“You’re welcome.” We passed the cruiser, and Finowitz turned off the camera. “When do you think you’ll be married?”
“This week, if possible.”
“I’ll work on Misha’s VISA.” He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. “As your lawyer, I recommend a prenuptial agreement. I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t protect your assets.”
My teeth ground together, but I reminded myself he was good at his job. “I appreciate your concern, if you mention it again I will be annoyed.”
“Understood.”
Adrianna parked her car in front of her house. I pulled into the driveway. Daniel waited across the street.
Daniel crossed the street. “How’d it go?” he asked.
“As expected. Finowitz recorded it.”
Finowitz climbed out of the car, and watched Adrianna approaching. “Good night, Ms. DelToro.”
“Good night, and thank you.” Adrianna clutched her purse, her eyes tight, her shoulders tighter.
“You’re welcome.” He offered her a quick smile, and followed Daniel across the street.
I approached her. “Why didn’t you park in the driveway? Is the car leaking oil?”
“No.” Her lips flattened. She wrinkled her nose and leaned close. “It doesn’t like reverse anymore.”
I closed my eyes. “Adrianna, you cannot drive that car.”
“I know.” She tilted her head, resting it on my chest, the weight of it perfect, the feel intoxicating. “It’s not even worth fixing the windshield.”
“Adri? What happened?” A woman asked from her front door. She looked similar, same dark hair, intelligent eyes, but she was more angular.
“Elena, this is Alyosha.”
Elena turned to face me, and her eyes widened.
I smiled.
She blushed.
I held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Mm-hmm.” The sound was breathy and she swallowed. She shook my hand and cocked her head. “We should introduce him to Mrs. Galvez.”