by Tobi Doyle
“Do you have a place to stay?” The woman held Adrianna’s face between her hands. She cast a scowl in my direction.
Adrianna extracted her face. “I do. Mrs. Galvez, this is my husband, Alexei Bykov.”
Mrs. Galvez’s mouth curved into a small ‘o’. “What? The last time we talked–”
“I know, but he’s so high profile and you know me…” Adrianna pulled my arm hard enough to stretch my shoulder ligaments.
I grabbed Mrs. Galvez’s hand and pumped three times. “Adrianna’s had a trying morning, I’m going to take her home. It was nice meeting you.”
She looked puzzled, but nodded. “Of course. You can call me if you need anything, Adri.”
Adri smiled and tugged harder on my arm. “Thanks, Mrs. Galvez.”
In the car, on the way home, I asked, “Was that the Mrs. Galvez who thought you should marry?”
She slid her eyes to me. “Yes. You have some explaining to do.”
Frustration simmered in my gut. “What do you want from me?”
“Why is your first instinct to call Dima?”
“I can’t explain that.”
She looked out the window and said nothing.
Fuck. Me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I waited until we’d returned to the condo before I spoke. I’d needed the time to calm myself. “Tell me why you called Dima.” I kept my voice even. I knew my emotions had been experiencing highs and lows and my anger was probably a little over the top. Probably. But still. Why the fuck had he called Dima?
“His uncle could be involved and I wanted to warn Dima.”
I took a deep breath, calming myself. “And why is that?” My voice sounded mostly reasonable, maybe just a touch of the-Kraken’s-been-released edge to it.
He frowned. “I can’t say.”
“No. You choose not to say.”
He didn’t disagree. He stood like a silent sentry.
His breathing was pissing me off. “Go. Do whatever you need to do. “
“What are you going to do?” He shifted from foot to foot, like he wanted to stay but needed to go.
“I’m going to figure out if the insurance is paid up to date, contact the bank, and stop service on the electric and water, sewer, garbage, whatever.” And I needed to change my address, which, considering how I was feeling right now, meant I should consider getting a post office box.
“I can have someone–”
“No.”
His phone buzzed and he read the text. “I should go.”
“Then go.”
“Adrianna.” He stepped toward me.
I took a step back. My body wanted him. My brain wanted space. I held up my hands. “Go. We’ll talk later.”
His phone buzzed again. “Come with me. You can ask Dima any questions you want.”
“No. You think his family burned down my house and I don’t want spend time with him.” I waved him off. “We’ll talk later. I’ve got a bunch of things I need to get done and so do you.”
He reached for me, pulled me into a hug. “We’ll talk later.” He kissed the top of my head and left.
The condo’s large windows let in the sunlight, diffuse and grey, and very much like my mood. We lived in the clouds, the bay covered in mist. I couldn’t see my future.
I’d married a man who killed someone.
I’d married him because in a moment of weakness I needed to know Herndon was gone.
Why was I surprised that burning down homes was a pastime of his friend’s family?
I felt split in two, my heart telling me to believe him, my head reminding me that bad people do bad things. He didn’t need to kill Herndon.
I wasn’t sad that he did.
And what did that make me?
My mood worsened after spending more time on hold than actually talking to human beings to get the utilities turned off. A post office was three blocks from our building, and I needed the fresh air. I walked down Folsom toward the bay. The weather was damp, that mist and salt air that permeated each breath but made me feel alive. Alyosha’s restaurant and home were really in a beautiful part of the city. One I’d never be able to afford, and yet he made me feel like I belonged. I walked along Embarcadero, smiling at the tourists taking selfies in front of the sculptured bow and arrow with the Bay Bridge as their backdrop.
I’d lived in this area for my entire life, and never taken the time to be a tourist. Maybe I’d force Elena to spend next weekend doing touristy things, like getting crab at Fisherman’s wharf or chocolate at Ghirardelli.
I turned up Howard, feeling refreshed, like each step took away some of the angst. Maybe I needed to get away for a few days. Dima had suggested it, and maybe I should.
I didn’t take long to get a PO Box. I paid for an entire year, using my own credit card. Just in case…
Alyosha had done so much for me.
I trusted him. Didn’t I?
But why would I? We’d been intimate, both physically and emotionally, but there was still so much about him he refused to share. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know Dima, the ‘brother of his heart’. Bratva. Connected to people who wanted to kill him, me, and anybody that got in their way.
I grabbed a bus and headed to The Office, the bar Elena worked at after school.
I texted Alyosha, “I’m going to Elena’s work.” Would he be worried or relieved I let him know where I went? He certainly never told me where he spent his days or even the middle of the night. When I was out of his sight, was I out of his mind?
Elena waved at me from behind the bar. I trudged to the end of the bar, my legs feeling heavier with each step, like I was wading through sludge. I slid onto a stool, hugging my purse to my stomach, like it could somehow push my heart back into one piece.
Elena sucked in a breath. “What the fuck happened?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. She waved to the other bartender. “Jorge? I need a break.”
He nodded and Elena ducked under the bar, grabbed my hand, and led me to the storeroom. Elena slapped the light switch.
“C’mon, get inside.” She closed the door behind me and leaned against it. “What happened?”
I sat down on a box and told her everything, from the scary dudes showing up at the salon, the house being intentionally torched, to Dima’s criminal family ties.
“The thing is, I understand that Alyosha trusts Dima completely, but that doesn’t mean Dima won’t screw me over.”
“Have you decided what to do with the flash drive?” Elena bit her thumbnail.
I pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Not for sure. Part of me thinks I should just post it on YouTube and then tweet to all the news stations and hope it goes viral. But then I don’t know how long it’d stay up and they could lie and say I’d doctored the video somehow. Do you have any ideas?”
“Eric knows a bunch of the cops from the garage. We could ask him who he trusts.” Elena pulled her phone out from her back pocket. “I’ve got to get back to work, but how did you leave it with Thor?”
“I told him we’d talk after he’s done with Dima.” I stood and followed her out of the storeroom.
“Do you feel safe?” She studied me closely.
“Yeah, if it’s just him.”
She nodded once, not looking at all convinced. “Come with me to Suzanne’s tonight.”
“Nah, I’d rather not spread my trouble around.” I gave her a quick smile and settled back on the stool.
She ducked under the bar and tucked her phone back into her pocket. “Thanks, Jorge,” she murmured. She walked down the bar checking on customers and then pulled a draft beer and set it in front of me.
“Speak of the devil.” Elena nodded to the door.
But, this time the devil was Eric. He grinned a happy-lopsided smile and waved. “How are my two favorite ladies surviving? Do you need a place to stay? Anything I can do to help?” He dropped down onto the stool beside me and nodded to Elena.
She pulled the house draft a
nd slid it to him. “We’re good, thanks. Who do you trust at your job? Like, hide-a-dead-body trust?”
Eric sputtered, and foam slid down the side of his glass. “You gals got some extracurricular activities going on?”
“Nothing like that,” I assured him. I caught Elena’s eyes and sent her a go-with-it eyebrow twitch. “I’d like to talk to a cop who might know what’s really going on, like if the fire was related to our dad’s murder.”
Eric leaned back on his stool. “Seriously? You think that the fire is about your dad?”
“Maybe,” I said.
Eric looked like I’d just suggested he owed money to the Easter Bunny. “Any idea who would do it?” He took a sip of beer.
“Nope. You?” I asked.
He shook his head but then stilled. “You know, Mrs. Galvez’s nephew just got released and is living with her.” He slid his eyes to me. “Maybe he thought he’d find cash.”
Elena snorted. “Dumbass.”
Eric tipped his beer toward Elena. “Where you sleeping tonight?”
“A friend’s,” she said. Poor Eric, she wouldn’t even tell him her address.
He nodded and sipped his beer. “I gotta guy I would trust. Want me to call him?”
“Yes,” Elena said and shot me a we-need-help glare.
Eric set his beer on the bar. “I’ll be right back.” He ambled outside.
“Don’t give me that glare.” Elena wiped the bar in front of me. “He can help. He knows everybody.”
“And he’s in love with you,” I added.
Elena scowled. “It’s not like that.”
“Only because you won’t let it be like that.” The cold beer tasted bitter but I drank anyway.
“I’m not ready for anything like that,” she whispered. She turned and checked on the customers. All smiles and happy and so pretty, she looked like the perfect twenty-something woman. But inside, both of us were used up and screwed up.
Eric opened the door and motioned for me to join him outside.
I nodded and pulled cash out of my purse to cover the beers. I waved to Elena and pushed through the bar door.
Eric was talking on the phone. “Sorry, the traffic is loud and the connection is shit.” He nodded to his truck parked across the street.
I followed, weaving our way through the four lanes of traffic stuck at a red light.
“Yeah, yeah, but what should she do?” He opened the truck door. “Okay, yeah. Look, I’ll pass on the info. Just tell me what’s going on?”
I slid into the truck and he closed the door crossing over to the driver’s side. He started the engine, turned the AC on and the radio off while still talking to the dude on the phone. “I don’t know that she wants to meet you, man. She just wants some answers.” He rolled his eyes like this guy was a real talker. The light ahead turned green and traffic started to move.
And then he locked the doors and pulled out into traffic.
That little voice warned of impending danger screamed at me, get out.
“Stop the truck!” I pulled the door lever but the door wouldn’t unlock or open. Neither would the window. The hair on the back of my neck prickled in the cool air.
“God dammit, Eric.” I punched his shoulder. Fear grew, curdling in my stomach, ringing in my ears.
He flinched. “Adri, fucking relax.”
I didn’t. The way he looked at me, it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t Eric. I screamed, pulled up my legs, and kicked him.
I didn’t see the taser, but the sting burned and my muscles seized.
And the bastard didn’t stop.
Every muscle tensed. I couldn’t move.
He pulled down a side street. “I’m sorry, okay? Just relax.” And then he punched me in the face.
My head hit the window and the pain exploded, black dots swirled in front of me, and I fought to remain conscious. But my head moved slow, my body exhausted. Why did he have to punch me?
My arms were too heavy to push him away when he slapped the duct tape over my mouth.
Elena wouldn’t know Eric was involved.
He wrapped my wrists in the grey tape and then my ankles.
I lurched forward, trying to smack him with my head.
He grabbed my wrists and then taped them to my ankles, folding me in the seat.
“Jesus, it didn’t have to be like this. For fuck’s sake, Adri, calm down.”
I pushed off the floor of the truck, hoping to get upright. Surely someone would notice me in his truck.
He pushed me down. “If you move, I will punch you again. Please, just stay put.”
Like it was my fault he punched me. He sounded like my father, blaming me for making him hurt me.
He moved back to his side of the truck.
I needed my head clear and another knock on the head would probably put me out. I turned my head and glared at him. I would murder him the first chance I got, but now, I played possum.
“Stop looking at me!” Eric pulled the truck into traffic. He punched his steering wheel. The truck accelerated and I swept my gaze around the truck looking for a potential weapon.
My overcooked-spaghetti limbs ached. I’d been hurt worse. And my anger fueled the adrenaline and I switched from panic to protect and fight.
He grabbed my purse from the seat and dumped the contents onto the seat. He picked up my phone, rolled down his window, and at the next turn he threw it across the intersection.
I pushed against the floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of where we were.
He grabbed my hair and held it against the seat. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
I whimpered.
He released some tension. The window motor hummed and closed. There was less traffic wherever we were.
I needed to survive for Elena. I refused to be murdered because my stalker left blackmail evidence at my house. The house that I moved into after my father beat my mother into a coma. Fuck kismet, I needed some real karma right now.
The truck slowed and gravel crunched under the tires. Where were there unpaved roads in San Francisco?
Meeting Dima would have been a safer.
Maybe I should have trusted Alyosha, and my gut.
Maybe my brain was fucked up with past hurts and issues that had nothing to do with Alyosha and everything to do with my inability to trust anyone other than my sister.
Would Alyosha even look for me or would Dima assure him it was better this way?
Death with no complications.
I needed to warn Elena. I turned my face quickly, caught Eric’s hand and bit, hard.
The truck jolted to stop as he screamed.
My face crunched under his fist, but I didn’t feel the pain.
I didn’t feel anything anymore.
Chapter Thirty
I would fix this. Once she was safe I would explain. She needed to trust me.
Why couldn’t she just trust me?
I parked in front of the warehouse and knocked on the door, warning Dima before entering.
Vanya opened the door. “He’s on the phone.”
I stepped inside, through the cloud of bleach and sanitizers, and sat in a folding chair, under the flickering florescent lights.
Dima paced. His eyes looked from me to the door, as if to ask where was Adri.
I shook my head. She’s not coming, my eyes said.
“Later,” he barked into the phone and ended the call. “Where is she?” He stuffed his phone in his pocket.
“At home.”
“Why did you leave her?” Dima stepped closer. He pushed against my shoulder. “What the fuck do you think is going on here? I told you to bring her to me.”
Vanya cleared his throat. “Dima, explain.” He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up.
Dima slid his hands through his hair. “Lev ordered the house burned down. He believes she has something and he needs it destroyed. Did you hear Herndon’s wife is staying with family in Florida? Between his connections with the pol
ice and searching Herndon’s house, he’s decided Adrianna must have it.”
“Physical evidence against him.” I stood, pacing the room. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Herndon had something on Lev, like he had something on Robertson.”
“Fuck.” I pushed up my shirt sleeves. “Lev still thinks Herndon is alive and Adrianna is his lover. This needs to end. He won’t stop until Herndon’s body is found.” And it would never be found.
“Can we use one of the bodies in the freezer?” Vanya asked.
Dima stopped, stared at Vanya, and then continued pacing. “Dental records, DNA, it would never work.”
I stood in Dima’s way. “Stop. Look at this from a different angle. We want Lev caught. Can we put the gun he left in Adrianna’s car back into his possession?”
Dima crossed his arms, stroked his cheek, and nodded. “Yes. This is good.” He pointed at Vanya. “And we give him back the bodies, too.”
“Where?” Vanya asked.
“His boat. Can we load the bodies on your boat, bring them to the marina and we transfer them to Lev’s. In a few days, the smell will bring the police.” Dima slapped my shoulder. “This could work. The gun, drugs, bodies, it would be enough for the new DA to press charges, put him in jail.”
Vanya shook his head. “He could point fingers. It’s his boat, but everyone in the family has access. It’s in a marina, anyone can get to it. There are security cameras.”
The solution surprised me. “The catering truck, change the plates and signage. We put the bodies in coolers, bring to the marina, stock Lev’s boat like for party and leave. It doesn’t matter if we are seen.” I raised a shoulder. “We’ll bring food, too, like the bodies have been there the whole time and we only put in food.”
Dima stood silent, his head cocked to the side. “This could work. It would bring an investigation, at least.”
He was holding something back, the way he refused to look at us, there was more. Was he planning on leaving tonight? Would he disappear and not tell us?
“No more secrets,” I said.
“It won’t be enough,” Dima said. Lev needs to die, his eyes said.
Vanya grunted. “Understood. But at the very least, this body disposal works for us.”