Vicious Justice

by Tobi Doyle

  “Do you know anyone with salon management experience?” Starting a salon might work if I had Michelle and Kendra’s help, too.

  “Jeremy’s cousin manages a place in a San Jose mall. I mean, I’d never work there, but she probably knows what it takes. Still, where are we gonna come up with the money. Holy shit! You think your hubby would front us?”

  “I’m not going to ask him. But after the house sells and stuff, I should have some money.” That was a blatant lie.

  “Can I tell Michelle?”

  “Sure, but don’t tell Haley.”

  Kendra grunted. “Right. Those two got into it over Michelle’s schedule this morning. She double booked and Michelle’s clients were pissed.” Kendra sighed. “The bitch is back. God, I hate my life right now.”

  “Hang in there. I’ll search for a position where there’s space for all of us,” I promised.

  “Or… just a place we could make our own,” she whispered. “Talk to you soon.”

  The call ended and I felt empty. Not seeing her and Michelle at work would be hard. But life goes on, and change happens. Even if I kicked and screamed, change happened. Dammit.

  Lasagna might not solve all my problems but lasagna and flan would make me forget them for a little while.

  “This house smells delicious.” Alyosha announced when he returned home at four. He placed a cardboard box on the dining table beside me. It held my few possessions from the salon.

  I’d been online job hunting and updated my resume. And maybe looking for salons for sale. The space Michelle had pointed out was too expensive, and too small to do everything Michelle wanted. I closed the browser page with salon listings, leaving the page with my pitiful resume open. “Thanks for getting this.”

  “Is it all there? Daniel said your friend Kendra packed it.”

  I found my framed certificate, which, other than my scissors, was the only thing of real value. But Kendra had been thorough, and my hair clips, combs, and brushes were all there.

  “Yup.”

  He kissed my cheek. “I like coming home to you.”

  I hugged him, resting my cheek against his chest. The one page resume faded to black… much like my career prospects. “It seems like I’ll be here for a while.”

  “You don’t have to work.” He cupped my face and kissed me sweetly.

  “I want to work, even if it’s just to prove to Marlo she’s an idiot.”

  “Firing you proves that already.”

  “You’re very good for my ego.” The oven timer beeped. “The flan is ready.”

  “Seduction through dessert, you understand me,” he teased me with the words from our first dinner all those weeks ago.

  Over dinner, I told him about Kendra and Michelle wanting to leave, and Jeremy’s cousin with manager experience. “But the idea of being responsible for an entire business is too much. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Alyosha waved his fork at me. “Because you are thinking too big. Think smaller. What is the first thing that needs to be done? Attack that, then move to the next. You eat an elephant a bite at a time.”

  “I would never eat an elephant.” I nudged his knee with mine. “But I understand your point.”

  He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his lips, and unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. “I have decided buying a gym is top business priority or I will become fat.”

  I smirked. “Most people say, dinner was delicious, honey, I’ll get the dishes; but sure, buying a gym is sweet, too.”

  He leaned over and kissed me. “How about this, dinner was delicious and I will hire someone to do the dishes.” I laughed and he grinned. “It is good to hear you laugh, kotyonok.” He stood and reached for me, pulling me against him.

  His strong arms enveloped me and my cheek rested over his steadily beating heart. I relaxed, wrapped my arms around his waist and settled in for a good hug.

  “You fit right here, kotyonok,” he murmured against my hair.

  My hands slid up his back, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled myself closer.

  He tilted my head with his thumb under my chin and kissed me sweetly. Light pressure on my lips, waiting for me to react.

  And I did.

  I wanted him. I wanted the distraction of his body and he willingly offered himself to me. He scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom, quickly pulling his clothes off while I shed mine. I pulled the covers back and slid into bed. He joined me, rolling me on to my side so that my bare breasts rested against his chest. His skin heated mine, and his hand slid down, cupping my butt and pulling my thigh over his naked hip. His other hand cradled my face while he kissed me.

  “My kotyonok,” he murmured and rolled on top of me. He kissed me, his hand moved from breast to breast caressing the sensitive skin. His head descended, licking and suckling, biting.

  My fingers scratched his head, and down his back. I needed this connection to him. I wanted to be close to him, to believe that what I felt was real. I opened my thighs, and he moaned against my breast.

  “I want you, kotyonok. I need you,” he murmured as his hips moved against me, his insistent cock prodding, trying to find my center. He reached down and placed himself at my opening. “Look at me, Adrianna. Look at your husband…” His eyes were burnished gold. I nodded but it was not enough.

  “Look. At. Me,” he insisted and slid easily in between my slick folds. My body was ready for him. It would always be ready for him. He kissed me, possessing my body, soul, and mind.

  I was falling in love with my husband. The realization broke something inside of me, a peace washed over me and I teetered on the precipice of an orgasm that would either devastate or heal me. My emotional day was ending with the man I loved making love to me. Claiming me. It was intoxicating.

  “Yes, I feel you. I want all of you.” He canted his hips, his breathing was harsh and a sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead.

  My body coiled towards something impossible. Incomprehensible pleasure swirled from my center out. I called his name out like a prayer.

  The sound of our harsh breathing filled the air. Stars exploded behind my eyes.

  “Yes,” he roared, his hips moving erratically as he succumbed to his own orgasm. I was wrapped around him when he relaxed against me. He rolled to his side, pulling me with him. He looked so happy, it brought tears to my eyes.

  “Kotyonok, did I hurt you?” he whispered.

  “No, these are tears of happiness.”

  His lips twitched, and he admitted, “I will never understand women.”

  “You only have to understand this one,” I countered.

  “Yes, only you,” he said and tucked me against him where I slept, dream-free, all night.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Christ, why do people feel the need to call you so early in the morning?” I caressed Adrianna’s arm, easing her awake so she could answer her damn phone.

  She reached for her phone, made a cute little grunt, and dismissed the call. Her head hit the pillow, and I was fairly certain she’d fallen back to sleep.

  The phone rang again.

  “Maybe you should answer it.” I turned on my bedside light hating to turn away from her body heat.

  “Hello?” Adrianna pushed her hair out of her face. She put the phone beside her ear, but she was still half-asleep, settled against the pillow, her warm curves snuggled against me. She tensed, pushed up, and her face twisted. “What?” She looked at me. “What time is it?”

  “Six thirteen.” I’d been in bed for three hours, having left at midnight to help close the restaurant.

  “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She scowled. “No, I’ll drive myself.” She ended the call. “The house is on fire.”

  “This is not a coincidence. Who called?” My head buzzed. I reached for my phone and called Dima.

  “The police, I think. They offered to pick me up, like I’d ever agree to ride in a cop car.” She slid out of bed, pushing her hair ba
ck and twisting it into a knot at the top of her head.

  “This better be fucking important,” Dima grumbled.

  “Adrianna’s house is on fire,” I said.

  Adrianna narrowed her eyes. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Did she set it herself?” Dima asked.

  “No,” I said to Dima.

  “Who are you talking to?” Adrianna glowered in front of me, hands on hips and one eyebrow arched.

  “Dima.”

  “No,” Adrianna said.

  “What?” Dima asked.

  “Give me a minute, Adrianna.” I turned, covered my ear and spoke to Dima. “Why would her house be on fire, Dima?”

  “Wrong phone, dumbass. And I don’t know. Honest. Do you want me to meet you?” He sounded tired.

  “Later. Be careful.” I ended the call and faced a fully-clothed, pissed-off wife.

  “Why does he need to be careful? His house isn’t on fire.” Adrianna’s fingers flew over her phone screen. She looked at me. “I need a car.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “I don’t need you to drive me.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “I need answers.”

  “I want to drive you.” I went to the closet. Dark jeans. Dark shirt. Boots. Designed to hide blood, and I had a feeling I’d be drawing blood today.

  In the car, I reached for her hand but she pulled away.

  “You said no more secrets.” She turned and faced the window.

  “I am concerned that Dima’s uncle is behind the fire. Dima said he doesn’t know.” I reached for her hand again, and this time she allowed me to hold it. “Dima believes his uncle is going to have him killed.”

  “Why?” Adrianna’s shock was evident.

  I squeezed her hand. “And that I cannot tell you. Because even though you are protected from the things I tell you, you are not married to Dima. I’m not trying to hide things from you. I’m trying to protect you.”

  She pulled her hand back. “Protect me less and tell me more.” She fished her phone out of her back pocket and typed. “Elena wasn’t called, just me.”

  “Do you know who called you? Was it police, fire? The detective?”

  “A 911 dispatcher, I think. He didn’t identify himself.” Adrianna huffed and put the phone to her ear. “Hey, I’m not there yet… No, just go to class. I’ll text you later and you can call me when you get the chance…Love you, too.”

  An odd sensation tugged at my chest. She loved Elena. She’d choose Elena over me. I wasn’t jealous about that, but the way she openly admitted she loved her sister made me hope that maybe someday she’d be able to say that to me.

  I pulled onto her street. Red and blue lights reflected off the windows, and her neighbors stood, wrapped in robes or jackets, worried expressions on their faces.

  I parked a few houses down, across the street, away from the heat and the chaos, and easy to escape.

  She tensed beside me. “It’s gone,” she whispered, staring at the garage. Half of the roof was gone, and the window, while intact, was surrounded by a smudge of black. All that remained of the house was the front porch. It looked like it must have burned inside and then the roof collapsed and also burned.

  She opened her door and a young Hispanic man called to her over the sounds of men shouting and rushing water.

  “Adri, thank god you’re okay!” He ran toward her.

  She slid out of the car. “Eric, when did it start?” She hugged the man.

  I didn’t like it. I joined them on the sidewalk.

  He eyeballed me, still holding Adri at his side. “I’m not sure. The fire department showed up around six.”

  I thrust my hand forward. “Alexei Bykov, Adrianna’s husband.”

  He surrendered Adri and shook my hand, a wary look in his eye. “Husband? Adri? What the fuck?”

  “Yeah. Husband. Get over it.” She looked back to the pile of rubble that had been her house. “Was there someone staying in the house? Or using the garage?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone coming or going and there haven’t been any strange cars in the neighborhood.”

  “So, no kids decided to have a party after we moved out?” Adri crossed her arms and raised an accusing eyebrow. It felt nice not having her glare aimed at me.

  “I would ask before I crashed at your place.” He sounded offended. “And I’d tell you if I saw someone using it.”

  She nodded in her head in acknowledgement but the scowl on Eric’s face said he knew she doubted him.

  A fireman lumbered toward us with his helmet under his arm.

  I pulled Adrianna against my side. “I think he wants to talk to you.”

  “Later, Eric.” Adrianna spoke softly.

  “Glad you’re safe.” He looked me over, and muttered something in Spanish.

  I leaned close to her ear. “What did he say?” I didn’t like the way he watched us. He looked guilty, the way he wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and he knew she wasn’t living there, so why did he ask?

  “Married.” She spoke low enough the only I could hear.

  “Are you the home owner?” The fireman asked.

  “It’s my parents’ home, Ray and Maria DelToro, but they’re dead,” Adrianna said.

  “Was anybody living in the house?” he asked.

  Standing this close to the fireman, I could smell the smoke, and an acrid, chemical smell.

  “No, my sister and I just moved out.” Adrianna held my hand.

  “Any pets?”

  “No.” Adrianna looked past the fireman.

  A loud crack emanated from the house, and the porch roof fell down.

  I pushed Adrianna behind me.

  Sparks flew up in the air and three fireman aimed the firehose at the flames engulfing the porch.

  Adrianna stepped to my side, allowing me to shield her from the wave of heat.

  “Obviously the house is a complete loss. You’ll need to talk with the fire investigator. He’ll come talk to you in a minute.” He walked back and joined a group of fire fighters and a man in a dark blue windbreaker.

  “That looks like a cop.” Adrianna faced me. “Tell me now, could Dima be involved in this?”

  “No. His uncle might be.” I cupped her face. “You don’t have to protect him.” I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

  The cop in the windbreaker joined us. “Sorry for your loss.” He jerked his thumb toward the remains of the house as if we could be confused about which loss he meant. He handed a card to me, but Adrianna reached for it.

  “The house belonged to my parents.” She looked at the card. “Mr. Smith.” She turned the card so I could read it.

  I pulled out the burner phone and texted the information to Dima.

  “Is the house insured?” Mr. Smith asked.

  Adrianna leaned closer. “Um, I think so. I…” She turned to me, wide-eyed. “I think I paid the bill but I don’t remember.” She blinked quickly, and her eyes shone.

  I stuffed my phone in my pocket and enjoyed Adrianna pressed against me for comfort. “The bank will have records,” I reminded her. I had no idea how much money she owed on the second mortgage, but we’d figure out a way to pay it off. And since the house had never actually been hers, there could be a chance that the executor who also approved her loan could be forced to take responsibility. I’d ask Finowitz and Daniel later.

  “It looks like the fire was intentionally set.” Mr. Smith pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “Have you made any enemies lately?”

  Adrianna slid her hand into mine. “Honestly, Mr. Smith, my father had many enemies. He was murdered his first night in jail. Maybe someone he put in jail wanted retribution.” Her hand grew warm and sweaty, because she was a horrible liar.

  Mr. Smith scribbled a note. “And what about you?”

  Adrianna squeezed my hand. “I don’t think so. I’m a hair stylist. Somehow, I don’t think my clients would burn down my parents’ hous
e because they were unhappy with a haircut.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pointed his pen toward me. “And you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t have enemies.”

  Mr. Smith narrowed his eyes. “I meant can you think of anyone who would want to upset Ms. DelToro.”

  “Actually, it’s Mrs. Bykov.” I glared, and while my glare did little to upset Adrianna, Smith blanched. His pasty white face reflected the red and blue lights, and highlighted his receding hairline and lack of chin.

  Mr. Smith dropped his focus to our hands and his eyes widened when he focused on the wedding bands. “Okay.” He scribbled another note. “But can you think of anyone who’d want to upset your wife?”

  “No.” This discussion is over, I said with my eyes.

  He wrote notes on the paper. “Well, it’s gonna take a couple of days to sort through the evidence before you can collect anything. Did you have anything of value in the home?”

  “No. Nothing at all.” Adrianna sighed, the sound mournful. “Can we go?”

  “Of course. You can give your insurance company my name and phone number for the claim. Could I have yours?”

  Adrianna recited her phone number. “The probate for my father’s estate just finished. My mother’s probate will be handled by our lawyer, Abe Finowitz. Sweetheart, will you let Mr. Finowitz know that Mr. Smith is handling the investigation?” She leaned her head against my heart and I honestly didn’t know if she was acting for Smith’s benefit or if she was aware how much I craved her seeking my protection.

  I kissed the top of her head. “Of course.” I flicked a withering glare to Smith. “You can expect his call.”

  His head tilted, acknowledging the information. He stepped back. “Again, sorry for your loss.” He retreated.

  Adrianna slumped against me. “Okay, maybe your glare could really take down a village.” She pulled me down into a kiss. A sweet, quick kiss. Then she pushed me back. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I held her hand while we walked back to the car. A woman approached us, waving her arms.

  “Adri, are you okay?” Her thick accent sounded familiar. She enveloped Adrianna in a hug.

  Adrianna patted her back. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Galvez.”