Vicious Justice

by Tobi Doyle

  Kendra nodded. “Jeremy’s not much of a talker, but then I look at what he’s done for me. Little things, like filling my car up with gas so I don’t have to. Maybe he’s telling you how he feels through his actions.”

  I nodded and looked down at the simple gold band on my hand. “He cares for me.” Because he has a savior complex.

  “I know that. Loving anyone is a risk.” She flashed a quick smile. “You have to ask yourself if he’s worth the risk.”

  “Adri, Mrs. Swenson is here for you,” Haley said.

  I stepped toward the door but Kendra grabbed my hand.

  “Did you sign a prenup?” she asked.

  “No.” The man proved he trusted me. Or was crazy.

  Kendra’s eyebrows sky-rocketed. “Yeah. He cares.”

  I numbly stepped toward the front desk. I must have been smiling because Mrs. Swenson smiled back at me, and she never smiled.

  Holy shit.

  No prenup.

  I spent the day coiffing clients and turning that over in my mind. Either Alyosha was serious about us making this a real relationship or… or I’d disappear like Herndon.

  Too much InvestigationDiscovery channel. The man cared. Why give flowers to a woman you plan to kill? And he was concerned about my safety.

  Chill.

  At five, two men in dark suits entered and talked with Haley at the front desk.

  My neck prickled and I tried to keep my calm. I carefully shaved the neck of my client and refused to look back at the desk. I grabbed the big soft brush and swept the small hairs off the back of his neck and ears.

  “All done,” I said brightly. I turned the chair and handed him a mirror.

  He studied the back of his head and nodded. “Looks good, thanks.”

  I popped the cape off and carefully slid the small hairs onto the floor and not onto his pants. “See you in six weeks.”

  He nodded and headed to the desk. “That’s great.”

  I followed him and opened my schedule book. He was my last scheduled appointment for the day. “Tuesday the 29th, five o’clock or five thirty?” I looked up from my scheduling book.

  He studied his phone. “Five thirty is better.” He handed money to Haley. “See you then.” He eyed the two suits waiting by the front door and left. Nice guy, but definitely not a protective bone in his body.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Alyosha: Just finished up.

  He replied: On my way.

  A shadow slid over my phone screen. Instead of looking at the person casting the shadow, I turned and headed toward the laundry room. No eye contact might keep me safe. I felt like a child hiding under the covers.

  “Adri, do you have time for a trim?” Haley’s eyes slid to the taller man. Dressed professionally he shouldn’t look like a threat, but there was something about him. And his hair looked perfect.

  I faced him. “A trim?” I raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  He nodded. After a trim, he’d end up with sidewalls, but I was safer with this man in my chair and a pair of scissors in my hand than hiding in the laundry room with only one exit.

  “Of course. Would you like to hang up your jacket?” I pointed to the coat rack.

  He shook his head and gripped his jacket, revealing a bulge on the side. He had a gun.

  I flashed a look to Haley, but she seemed to be in a staring contest with the other man.

  “Alrighty,” I smiled like I was blissfully unaware of the danger. Inside my heart raced. “Just have a seat here.” I pointed to my chair, forced my jitters to subside so he wouldn’t notice a tremble. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Alyosha: Two scary men here - not police. I slipped the phone back into my pocket. To waste time, I crossed the room to the sinks and pulled a cape from the overhead cabinets. I grabbed a couple of towels, and neatened the stack.

  Kendra raised her eyebrows and tilted her chin at the man. Her WTF expression didn’t help my nerves. The young woman in her chair stared at him openly.

  He’d settled into my chair and watched me, ignoring the other customers and stylists.

  Wilson Phillips Hold On played overhead, apropos and good advice. I fluffed the cape over tall-scary guy and tucked in a towel around his suit collar. “How much of a trim did you want?” I met his dark eyes in the mirror.

  “Just a little off the top.” His European accent was similar to Alyosha’s. Was he Bratva?

  I picked up the water bottle and misted his hair and combed the strands into submission.

  “You were recommended to me by a friend,” he said.

  “Really? That’s nice.” I didn’t ask who. Instead I focused on the brown hair sprinkled with gray. His weathered face made it difficult to place his age. He could be anywhere from forties to an incredibly fit seventy.

  “Yes. Greg Herndon was an associate of mine.” He tilted his head, pulling his hair from my grip. “I know you two were close.” His gaze slithered over me.

  I picked up my scissors and snipped the air near his ear. “I didn’t know him well at all. He was just a client.” I pulled the hair on the crown of his head between my fingers. I could cut his hair off at the scalp but I restrained myself. “Look, before I ruin your hair, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.” I held the scissors over his head, threatening him with an inverted mohawk. My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I didn’t look at the message. I knew Alyosha would be here soon.

  He didn’t flinch. “You’re lying. Where is he?” He moved, and the cape rustled.

  Was he reaching for his gun? I wished I could see his hands. But we were surrounded by witnesses, and I reasoned if he wanted hurt me, he’d have done it already.

  “I don’t know where he is and I don’t care if you think I’m lying.” My voice didn’t waver. I stepped back but gripped the scissors like a weapon. “You should go.”

  The bells over the door chimed but I didn’t look away. The threat in front of me captured my attention.

  He looked. His eyes widened and he stood.

  I stepped further back, still holding the scissors. I bumped into a body, and it wasn’t Alyosha’s. Funny, how I knew the feel of Alyosha already. This body was harder and smelled like cigarettes.

  “Congratulations, Adrianna.” Dima’s voice slid over me and plunked like a stone in the pit of my stomach. He picked up my left hand and showed the no-longer-scariest-man-in-the-room the ring on my finger.

  “Thank you.” The words melted on my tongue, my mouth moved, but only silence came out.

  Dima was here. He released my hand and gripped my shoulder, turning me. If possible, he looked even more menacing with a black eye.

  I lowered the scissors.

  He gripped my shoulders and kissed both of my cheeks. “Welcome to the family.” He tucked me close to his side and kept his arm around my waist.

  His expression read, back-the-fuck-off.

  Kendra watched in fascination, holding her water bottle like a gun. She moved her aim between Dima and less-scary guy.

  The man pulled the cape from his neck and dropped it on my chair. He spoke rapid-fire Russian, but his tone sounded respectful. His hands opened, palms up and low. Close enough to grab his gun, but clearly showing he wasn’t holding a weapon at that moment.

  Dima said a few words, slowly, and they dripped with venom.

  Kendra lowered her water bottle.

  The man nodded and pulled out his wallet. He slapped a bill on Haley’s counter and left.

  Dima released me. “What did he want?”

  “Is he… related?” I whispered.

  Dima rolled his eyes, the reaction comical because it made him appear human, and yet, the way his cold-dead-blue eyes glared at me made me wonder if he had a pulse.

  “He thought I knew where Herndon is.” I raised an eyebrow. “I assured him Herndon a client only.”

  He nodded.

  “What did he say to you?” I asked.

  Dima looked around the salon. “Later.”


  The door chimed, and this time Alyosha rushed toward me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I wanted to hug him, kiss him, but every eye in the salon focused on us. “I’m ready to go.” I grabbed my purse from my cubby and nodded to Kendra. “I’ll text you later.”

  She waved her comb at me. "You better.”

  I left the salon, escorted by Thor and a mafia enforcer.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Adrianna walked stiffly, her jaw set hard, and her hand trembled in mine. Outside the salon, she followed behind me and I shielded her from Dima’s glare.

  “Who is he?” Adrianna asked.

  Dima didn’t answer, instead he scanned the sidewalk looking for more goons and sauntered to his motorcycle. “He’s an associate of mine. Don’t concern yourself.” There was more he wanted to say, his lip curled back like he tasted a bitter comment and wanted to spit it out. “Would you have cut him with your scissors?” he asked Adrianna.

  “If he threatened me physically, yes.” She sounded strong and self-assured.

  Pride swelled my chest and I took a deep breath, the first since her text about the men.

  Dima gave a rare smile. “Good.” He slung his leg over his motorcycle. “He won’t bother you again.” It was a promise to Adrianna. His eyes said, they will not touch her.

  I looked away, not wanting Dima to see my doubt. He put on his helmet avoiding further conversation.

  I directed Adrianna toward the car, my hand in the small of her back. Remorse weighed down my legs like each step was through wet cement, and the further I walked away from Dima the cement seemed thicker. I waved to Dima. “We’ll talk later. It’s time you let us help.” This is too much for one man, my eyes said.

  Dima waved back, and then pulled into traffic.

  Adrianna pulled her phone out and read a text. A frown marred her face. “Elena picked up an extra shift at the bar.” She met my eyes. “She’s safe, right?”

  “Yes.” Herndon hadn’t shown interest in her sister, thank god. I opened the car door for her.

  Her skirt slid up, revealing her smooth calf skin. She jerked on the seatbelt, her movements frantic, and it locked too short for her to buckle in. She cursed, released the belt and then slowly pulled on the belt and buckled. “Can we go?”

  I waited until we were driving on the freeway before asking. “What happened?”

  “Two men came into the salon and one of them asked for a trim. He had an accent. Similar to yours. And really short hair.” She moved her finger and thumb apart two inches. “He said he was a friend of Herndon and asked if I knew where Herndon was. I told him I didn’t know. That Herndon was just a client. I sensed he wasn’t there for a haircut and asked him to leave, and then all of a sudden Dima was there.”

  “I called him when I got your text. He was closer to the salon than I.”

  She twisted to face me. “Dima spoke to him in Russian. He knew him. How? Who is he?”

  “I’m not sure. What did he look like?” It was obviously one of Dima’s family, but I wasn’t sure who.

  “Tall, well-dressed, dark brown hair with gray at the temples and streaked through the top.”

  I cradled her hand in mine. “Did he have a mustache?”

  “No.”

  “It could be Grigori, he works for Dima’s uncle. How did he react when Dima arrived?”

  “Polite. He left after Dima growled at him.” She squeezed my hand and I wondered if she realized her affectionate response. “Dima’s opening comment was to welcome me to the family. He made a big deal about it.“

  I kissed her hand. “Dima’s uncle is looking for Herndon. He thinks you know where Herndon is.”

  The words seemed to strike her and she flinched.

  I placed our hands on my thigh. “Dima will handle his uncle.” With my help. And Vanya’s.

  Her lips flattened like she disagreed but wouldn’t say the words.

  She didn’t trust Dima, yet. He lived in a very different world, and I didn’t want it to touch her, but I hoped she realized Dima was the warden, not the devil. Without him in Lev’s organization, I feared things would have become more violent on our streets.

  “What does Dima do?” Her voice sounded hesitant, shy. “I mean, does he have a job?”

  “He does. Small businesses and real estate. Have you heard of the club Alimony?” Her grip tightened and I took the opportunity at a red light to look at her.

  “The strip club?” She frowned and pulled her hand out of mine.

  I missed her touch immediately. “Yes. But he owns the whole building. There’s a laundromat and two other businesses he leases space to, as well as the apartments above.” Dima used both businesses to launder money for his uncle as well, but I didn’t think that was what upset Adrianna.

  Her frown grew. “Do you go there? To Alimony?” Suspicion and maybe hurt tinged her words. A warning of something…

  The light turned green and I focused on the road. Was she jealous? “Yes, I go there. Dima’s office is there. But I don’t watch the girls.”

  She shifted to face the window, shutting me out.

  “Adrianna, are you jealous of strippers?”

  “It’s not that.” She spoke in a tone I’d never heard before. I’d upset her and that leaden sensation seeped into my limbs. Regret had weight.

  “We are exclusive,” I reminded her. Didn’t she realize I only wanted her?

  She turned. “It’s not about that.” She placed her hand on my arm, warm and gentle. She wasn’t angry, maybe disappointed? “How would you feel if I danced there?”

  A jealous fury, sudden and unexpected, burned through my veins and my scorched my lungs. No man would ever see her like that. No man would get her smiles, look at her seductive body but me. Unable to speak, I continued driving to our home.

  “I’ll take that as you’d prefer I didn’t get naked or mostly naked in front of strangers.” Her voice was calm, patient, but a hint of anger boiled underneath.

  She wasn’t making sense. She wasn’t jealous of the dancers, but she was angry they danced?

  And I didn’t know why.

  I wanted to know why.

  “You are correct,” I answered, my voice gritty.

  “And do you think the women that dance there are any different from me?”

  “Yes.” Where the fuck was she going with this illogical premise? I pulled into the garage and shifted into park.

  “They aren’t.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “I guarantee you most of them had someone just like my father in their life.”

  Fuck.

  She pulled at the door handle, fumbling with the lock.

  I opened my door, unlocking hers.

  She stalked to the elevator, punching the button several times.

  I stood behind her, wanting her to rock back into me. I wanted to offer her comfort. I hated that I’d reminded her of her past. “They're beautiful women, professionals. Dima pays them well, but I don’t know why they choose to dance. They aren’t prostitutes.”

  She cringed. “That’s not my point.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside and smacked the floor button. She clenched her teeth, her jaw muscles flexing, fierce and frustrated.

  “Adrianna, I want to understand.” I opened my arms, wanting to hold her against me, but she rolled her eyes, stepped back, and put up her hand. Her glare might not take over a village, but it definitely concerned me.

  “Your friend, Dima, this man I’m supposed to trust, this man whose uncle thinks I have…” She fisted her hands and crossed her arms. “This man uses women as a commodity. What makes you think Dima and his uncle don’t see me as just another commodity?”

  “Never.” I cupped her face. Her soft skin against my hand, reminding me she was so warm and gentle. “Because you are mine.” I leaned close to kiss her.

  She pushed me away. “Wrong. Answer.”

  Fuck. I stepped back, uncertain, uncomfortable, and completely aware that this discussion could end us.


  The elevator doors opened and her heels struck the tile, clacking a strident beat against the marble. She unlocked and swung the door open and then the guest room door slammed shut.

  Fuck me.

  I stood in my kitchen, the clutter-free counters didn’t encourage people to gather, or meals to be shared. It looked cold and clinical. My mother’s kitchen always had fresh herbs in a vase, sometimes cookies on a plate, but it always smelled of a good meal. I called down to the restaurant and ordered Mama’s cabbage rolls for dinner and Adrianna’s favorite chocolate soufflé for dessert. I poured myself a whiskey and wondered what I was supposed to do?

  I’d wanted Adrianna to be happy here, but this was not a home. My bland condo mocked me. All the color in my life was Adrianna. And she was locked in the guest bedroom where her voice was low and quiet, sharing secrets with someone else. I hoped her sister.

  I sat down on the floor outside the guest bedroom door. I knocked. “I’m sorry that I’ve offended you. It was never my intention.” I hated this feeling of malaise.

  Something thumped against the door. “You’re still an idiot.”

  I didn’t disagree with her. I replayed the conversation in my head… Grigori… Dima’s uncle… Dima’s work… Jealousy… Where the fuck had I screwed up?

  “Adrianna, I don’t understand. Please, help me. I hate that you’re upset because of something I said. Please.”

  The door creaked as if she leaned against it. “Dima’s uncle thinks I have something. Dima knows I have something. Dima treats women like property.” The door thunked. Had she knocked her head against it? “And you saying I’m yours like you consider me property. Am I a commodity to be used?” Distrust bled into her voice.

  Her tone pierced my heart, and pain filled my chest. All my secrets, my dark past, had created her fear. Me. “Never. You will never be used.” I put my glass down and took off my wedding band. There was a secret I could share, and maybe she would stay. Inside the band was an inscription engraved in Cyrillic, forever and a day. “Adrianna, take off your wedding band. Inside is an inscription. Can you see it?”

  Fabric ruffled against the door. “I do.” Her soft voice calmed me.

  “These rings were my grandparents. It means forever and a day. When I married you, I did it for your safety, but for me, too. When I first saw you a year ago, I was afraid to talk to you. You are all color and light and I’m full of darkness. You deserve more than me.” Would she be scared to hear I intended our marriage to be real?