Slave to the Rhythm (The Rhythm #1)

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “I booked my flight back to London a week ago,” Sarah said while she dotted concealer under her eyes.

  “Yeah? Are you coming back to Chicago after?”

  “I doubt it. Well, I’ll go wherever I get hired. A friend of mine from RADA works at the Sydney Opera House, and she’s always trying to get me to visit. Maybe I will—some winter sun would be fab. What about you?”

  I shrugged. “Look for another job, I guess.”

  “You should give London a try, Ash,” she said, smearing foundation across her smooth skin. “My friend Paula told me that there’s a couple of shows that are hiring in the New Year. You wouldn’t even need a work visa as Slovenia is part of the EU. Laney could come with you. She usually works from home, right?”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and Sarah gave me a confused look. Wouldn’t it be ironic that I’d married Laney for a green card, but if I worked in Europe it would be the other way around—she’d be able to work in Britain because we were married.

  “You’re a weirdo,” Sarah said, throwing a powder puff at my head.

  She was probably right. But what she’d said gave me a few things to think about. It made a change from worrying about whether or not I’d get kicked out of the U.S.

  The show stumbled on with an audience of fewer than fifty people in a theater that held 500. There was nothing worse than dancing until your heart was ready to burst, and hearing only thin and scattered applause. But we kept smiling. We painted on our fucking smiles every night and danced until our feet bled.

  I woke up on Christmas Eve with a strange feeling, ominous like a storm brewing, like someone had stolen my breath. My heart thumped wildly, but nothing seemed out of place and Laney was sleeping silently beside me.

  I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and headed to the bathroom. I stared in the mirror, wondering what life was going to throw at me next.

  I’d tried to compartmentalize everything, trying to forget about what had happened in Vegas, about Sergei, even about my friends. Sometimes it worked, but sometimes I felt like I’d go crazy with all the fractured parts of me falling apart like broken glass.

  The woman I’d left in bed had helped me in so many ways. I’d be grateful to her forever. She held me together and stopped me from shattering—I didn’t even know why.

  I’d wanted to buy her a really great Christmas present, and I had thought about getting her an engagement ring to go with her wedding band, but that didn’t feel right and I wasn’t sure she’d want it.

  Instead, I’d bought 100 of my favorite songs and secretly downloaded them to her phone. They all meant something to me—and I hoped they’d mean something to her.

  I splashed cold water on my face but avoided looking in the mirror. It was easier that way.

  Laney was still sleeping when I walked back into the bedroom. I stared down at her, a small frown on her face. She’d been limping for two days now and we both knew she had a flare-up coming, she just didn’t want to admit it. Or rather, she wouldn’t let it stop her from going on with her life.

  She lived with restrictions and limitations; there were things she couldn’t do, shouldn’t try, would never do, but she had the biggest, most open heart of anyone I’d ever met. She was remarkable in so many ways, but she didn’t see that about herself.

  She’d opened her home to me when she barely knew me. But she always trusted me and looked out for me when I knew that everyone was telling her to stay back, be wary.

  In a world where it was easier to look the other way, she actually gave a shit about something other than herself.

  She’d saved me, and I’d repaid her by turning my back on my friends and trying to carry on with my life. I’d done nothing for Yveta, or Marta, Galina, or Gary. And the girl—that nameless kid who haunted my dreams and was forgotten in daylight—I hadn’t saved her either. I could pretend all I liked, but the only person I’d saved was myself.

  I was making coffee, when I heard someone knocking at the door. My first thought was that those fucking government goons were back with their snooping, spying questions.

  That’s what I thought—but I was wrong. The Fates hated me. And this was much worse.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and yanked the door open.

  A uniformed cop was standing in front of me.

  “Mr. Novak, I’m Officer Jenkins.”

  “Yeah, I remember you.”

  The asshole had pushed me face down onto the hood of his squad car the night I’d arrived in Chicago. I wasn’t planning on forgetting that.

  “We’d like you to come to the station for questioning.”

  I felt Laney’s presence behind me, and her hand rested on my shoulder: a warning as well as reassurance.

  “More questions, Billy? Do I need to call Angela?”

  The guy turned pink and swallowed nervously.

  “Your dad, um, Captain Hennessey just told me to bring him in. He’s not under arrest.”

  “I should think not!” she said firmly. “What’s it about this time?”

  “I don’t know, at least, I’m not sure. And that’s the truth, Laney.”

  He was practically pleading with her, which would have made me laugh if I wasn’t already on edge.

  Laney glanced across at me.

  “We should probably go.”

  The police guy looked much happier after she said that. I can’t say I did.

  Grim faced, I finished dressing, collected my coat and followed them out the door.

  The journey to the police station was quiet. I guess policemen weren’t allowed to listen to The Mix or Kiss FM.

  Instinctively, I reached out to hold Laney’s hand. If this was it, if I was being sent home, I needed to spend every last second letting her know that I’d always be her friend, that . . .

  Her gray eyes turned to mine, full of compassion, full of love.

  A shockwave of realization overwhelmed me. I’d hardly seen it happening, hadn’t known what it meant, had been denying it for so long—but somehow, somewhere, friendship and admiration had turned to love. I was so fucking in love with her I didn’t know where I ended and she began.

  My lungs squeezed painfully and I sucked in air. I didn’t know that love could make you forget how to breathe. Sex with Laney had been on my list of priorities for a while now, right under air, above food, and equal with dancing. No, not anymore. Laney was above the need for oxygen. Moj sonček—my sunshine.

  “We’re here,” she said softly.

  I hardly heard her as I leaned across, pressing my lips against hers, holding her face to mine, then kissing her like it was the first time or the last time.

  “I love you,” I said, my breath whispering across her skin. “You are my sunshine, Laney Novak. I love you so much.”

  She blinked, startled, and then her beautiful smile spread across her face, lighting her like the sunshine she was.

  “Took you long enough,” she said. “I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.”

  I laughed in surprise, and we sat there, grinning like two love-blasted fools, until Officer Dickwad jerked the car door open.

  Laney’s smile fell.

  “Whatever happens, Ash, we’re in this together, right?”

  She squeezed my hand again, and I nodded, my mouth dry.

  Captain Hennessey was waiting, but this time he didn’t try to separate us and he didn’t comment on the way Laney clung to me. Or more truthfully, the way I clung to her like a drowning man clings to even a splinter of wood.

  He led us to an interview room where Officers Petronelli and Ramos were already sitting, as well as Laney’s friend Angela, and a man in a suit that I didn’t know.

  “Angie! “What’s going on?” Laney asked, leaving my side to hug her friend.

  “I’m still waiting to find out,” she said frowning at me before shaking hands briefly. “But I hear congratulations are in order.”

  Laney nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You look happ
y,” Angela said reluctantly.

  “I am. We are,” Laney said, reaching for my hand again.

  Laney’s father shut the door, signaling that it was time to get serious, and my heartrate jacked up. I hated being in enclosed spaces—it was too much like being trapped in that car with Sergei.

  Sweat broke out over my body as I tried not to lose my mind.

  Laney gripped my fingers too tightly and I winced.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, letting go immediately.

  “Thank you for coming in, Ash,” said Laney’s dad. “We . . .”

  “I’ll take it from here, Captain Hennessey,” said the suit without even looking at him.

  Laney’s dad bristled. “Ash is my son-in-law,” he said, as my eyes snapped to his.

  There was a pause.

  “Of course,” said the stranger calmly. “I’m Special Agent John Parker with the Bureau for Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. My team has been investigating your friend Volkov and his connections with the Outlaws, a motorcycle gang that’s responsible for 55% of criminal activity in Nevada, and that’s just the things we know about.”

  He looked directly at me.

  “Thanks to your information, we were able to locate the epicenter of their prostitution and human trafficking ring.”

  Laney’s dad shot an irritated look at the man. “Ash, they’ve found your friends Yveta Kuznets and Gary Benson.”

  Laney’s fingers tightened around my hand again. This time I welcomed the pain.

  “Are they alright?”

  He grimaced. “They will be.”

  I didn’t know what that meant.

  “Marta? Galina?”

  “We haven’t been able to trace Marta Babiak,” Parker replied for him. “A woman with her passport left the U.S. over a month ago, but after that, the trail goes cold.”

  “Galina?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “We have reason to believe that Galina Bely was killed on or about December 15th.”

  While I was dancing in a stupid show. Oh God.

  I closed my eyes, but couldn’t stop tears burning behind my eyelids.

  “Mr. Novak,” said Parker, “following leads that started with your information, we have been able to rescue 137 women and 27 men from a dozen different locations across the country. And there’ll be more.” He cleared his throat. “We have also taken 33 of the Outlaws into custody, and we’d like you to try and identify the one that you saw. Volkov has severed ties with them, and he’s lost a number of his own men in gun battles. We believe Volkov is cleaning house. He’s shutting down operations. What you did, getting away, you’ve saved lives.”

  I felt Laney’s cool hands on my cheeks and realized that she was wiping away tears.

  “You did good, baby,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I shook my head. I’d done nothing except run away, saving my own skin.

  “There’s one other thing,” said Parker. “We’ve found the, um, the remains of a white male, aged between 30 and 50. We think it could be Oleg Ivanowski, Sergei Boykov’s second in command. We’d like you to try and identify him.”

  “What do you mean by ‘remains’, Special Agent Parker?” asked Angela. “My client is not a forensic pathologist.”

  The man looked at her directly as he answered.

  “We have a head, Ms. Pinto.”

  Laney’s face was as white as paper, and her hand felt clammy in mine.

  “Does he have to?” she whispered.

  “It would really help us out, Mrs. Novak,” replied Parker.

  “I’ll do it,” I said, my voice as dry as dust.

  He nodded, waiting until Laney was looking away, then laid a black and white photograph in front of me. It didn’t look real, the bloated pumpkin-shape in the picture. The close-cropped hair looked like Oleg’s, but it was hard to tell.

  “I don’t know, it could be. He . . . Oleg . . . had a long scar on his right cheek and his nose had been broken.”

  Parker seemed pleased with my answer.

  It felt odd, staring down at a photograph of Oleg’s head. It didn’t match the menace, the pure evil that I’d always felt around him. Instead, he was nothing.

  I hoped his body was feeding the worms.

  I hoped he’d suffered when they killed him.

  I hoped he felt every blade of every knife, every bullet of every gun.

  I hoped he’d screamed in agony.

  I hoped he’d taken a long time dying.

  And I was glad he was dead. The world was a better place without him in it.

  “What about Sergei?” I asked, almost choking on the name.

  Parker shrugged.

  “Volkov is very thorough. It’s likely that Boykov is already dead or will be soon. We got lucky with Ivanowski. A rancher found the remains when he was riding his property-line. We think coyotes . . . well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  My stomach quivered, but I wasn’t sick. Laney gave a small gasp and I put my arm around her automatically.

  “Are you going to arrest Volkov?”

  “We’re still gathering evidence. We don’t just want Volkov, we want all his contacts, and we’re working with Interpol. That’s all I can tell you right now.”

  I didn’t know how to feel. Was it all over, after all these months? I should have felt relief. I wanted to feel something, but I couldn’t. The numbness crept over my whole body left me with a cold, floating sensation. Even Laney’s small frame curled into my chest didn’t move me.

  Funny, this morning I’d felt like I was in love with her. Now, I felt nothing. I knew I still loved her, at least I thought so—I just couldn’t feel it.

  Her father was watching me with narrowed eyes. I stared back at him until he glanced away.

  “Yveta and Gary?” I prompted, looking at Parker.

  “They’ve been brought to Chicago. Mr. Benson has family in Kenosha. Ms Kuznets opted to come with him. He was very happy to hear that you’re in the same city.”

  “Where did you find them?”

  Parker looked at me thoughtfully before he answered.

  “They were found at one of the Outlaws’ hideouts near Boise. They’d been moved around several times before that.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “That can be arranged. They’re being looked after at Mercy.”

  His words confused me, but Laney explained. “It’s the name of a hospital.”

  Her voice seemed to come from a long way away, as if the pane of glass between me and the world grew thicker, hazier every second. My head began to throb.

  “Why are they in hospital?”

  Parker’s expression remained neutral, but I could see that there was something he wasn’t telling me.

  “Dehydration, mainly. When the Outlaws started getting hit by Volkov’s men, they left your friends behind. We’re not sure, but we’d guess they were without food and water for three or four days.”

  I rubbed my temples, willing the pounding in my head to lessen. Laney caught my fingers and held them gently.

  “They wouldn’t have let them travel if they were really unwell,” she tried to reassure me quietly.

  “Unless you have anything further, my client has had enough for today,” Angela said firmly.

  Parker shot her a look. “Just the photographs, and we’ll be done.”

  One by one, he pulled out a set of photographs. Some of them were mug shots, others looked as if they’d been taken from a distance, probably surveillance cameras. I thought I recognized the biker, but I couldn’t be sure. Parker didn’t seem disappointed—the guy showed less emotion than a stone. I definitely knew that feeling.

  Eventually he nodded at Angela.

  “We’re done here. Thank you, Ms. Pinto. Mr. Novak, Mrs. Novak.”

  They all stood up to leave, but I had to know.

  “What if Volkov doesn’t find Sergei?”

  Parker pursed his lips, and I thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to te
ll me. But then he shook his head.

  “He crossed the border into Mexico. We think we know where he’s going. It’s just a matter of whether Volkov finds him first or us.”

  I hoped Volkov found him, castrated him and killed him. In that order.

  Ash

  I DIDN’T WANT to face Gary, and when I walked into that brightly lit hospital room, I had no idea what I’d find or even if he’d want to see me. Everything that had happened to him—and I still wasn’t sure what that was—it was because of me.

  Gary sat in bed, the TV was on a low setting, but he was staring out the window, lost in thought. When he heard the door opening, he turned, frowning. But then his face lit up in a huge smile. I winced when I saw that several teeth were missing, and that yellow bruises were fading on his face.

  “I look hideous, I know. You look gorgeous as ever. Give me a hug, showboat.”

  He grinned, waving his arms at me.

  I leaned down to hug him and I felt a tremor run through his body, his arms squeezing tighter.

  “I’m so fucking glad you made it,” he whispered.

  I jerked back, surprised. I was expecting blame, not . . . this.

  “God, it’s good to see you. Not a cute doctor in sight,” he said, half laughing, half crying as he wiped his eyes with his fingers. “How have you been?”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say. Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

  Gary looked surprised.

  “Well, I’m happy to shriek in delight at seeing your pretty face, but why do I get the feeling that’s not what you mean?”

  “But this—it’s all my fault!”

  Gary shook his head emphatically.

  “No. No. You’re wrong. You tried to get me to do something, to tell someone, and I didn’t want to know. Jesus, even when you were all beaten up and desperate . . . I should have done something to help then. But I didn’t.”

  He gestured to his own face and body.

  “This is all on me. I’m just so happy that you got out. I have no idea how. I thought at first that they’d killed you, but when they kept asking me where you were, how you’d gotten away, I was happy. Well, I’d have been a lot happier if they’d stopped hitting me, but other than that, yeah . . .”

  His words stuttered and stopped.