There was no point in trying to go back to sleep; he couldn’t after dreaming of home. He was too agitated, too worried, to settle back into unconsciousness. The clock on his phone read 1:32. He lay with his head on one folded arm, the other tucked to his stomach. It hurt too damn much to bend it above his head. Ramses had migrated up the bed and was curled against Koivu’s side. The dog’s warmth and gentle snoring wasn’t comforting tonight. Outside, the storm raged on. Its fury was no match for what simmered inside him. He was changing—softening—here, on the human plane, in this pitiful human body. He should be healed by now, but he wasn’t. He was getting better, but it was taking too long. Every day he was stuck here dulled his edge, stole away his birthright. He was a fucking warrior! He came from a long line of warriors who served mighty Lucifer himself. His father was legendary!
Legendary and fucking dead. Killed five years ago in a freak training accident, his body was never found. His mother iced over as she always had. Her motherly instincts didn’t include her youngest son. She pushed him onto Aunt Mai and left the region. He hadn’t heard from her since. For all he knew, she had offed herself. His sister and brother had been too busy with their own lives to see if he needed anything. He hadn’t seen them either. He’d already been fighting in Hell’s Fury, but he made a real name for himself after his father’s death. With no one to care, he threw himself into an extreme lifestyle, which he shared with Benn and Derick. Roof running, free climbing, and cage fighting with every monster Hell could dredge up, he learned to trust his body and his instincts. Neither had ever let him down. Until now.
The clock glowed 1:45. Staring at the ceiling and rehashing his fucked up life was getting him nowhere besides more pissed off. He had to move; had to get rid of this anger. Tossing the covers over Ramses, he shoved his feet into a pair of jeans and dragged on a shirt and boots. After a quick stop in the bathroom to take a piss and throw some water on his face, he was striding out the backdoor. The rain hit him from all directions, soaking him to the skin by the time he got to the SUV. Fuck it. He didn’t care. He threw the truck in gear and aimed it towards the Brooklyn Bridge.
Dive was still filled with lonely people who dreaded their own company. The bartender, Damon, raised a hand in greeting and held up a bottle of bourbon. Koivu yanked over a barstool and planted his ass on it. “Double,” he ordered. His voice was harsh with the furious desperation that was spurring him on tonight. He wanted to run. Wanted to climb. Wanted to fucking beat something senseless. Godfuckingdammit! He was trapped here!
“Here you go, man. You look like you need another.”
“You have no idea.” He chugged the liquor. Its burn fueled the inferno raging in his gut. He held up the cloudy glass and nodded. Damon refilled it without another word. Koivu chugged it and slammed the glass on the bar. There wasn’t enough liquor in the world to make him feel better. He was restless and frustrated. He scanned the crowd for a woman he knew. A good round of sex might take the edge off.
“If I sit here, will you bite me?” A woman laughed next to his ear. She’d come up behind him while he was looking the other way.
He whirled around and snapped, “Do you want me to?”
She laughed again and scooted closer. She wasn’t exactly pretty. Her face was too hard; she wore too much makeup. Her flat-ironed hair was probably a wig. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with heavy black liner. She dug her nails into the inside of his thigh. “I don’t know. Will you leave teeth marks?”
He snatched her hand and shoved it back into her stomach. “Don’t play with me. I’m not in the mood for games.”
Her eyes went flat, but she wedged herself between his legs, her palm cupping his crotch. “I’m not offering games, asshole. I’m looking for a good time and you look like you’d give me one.”
He studied her for a minute, considered his shitty mood and raging need for some kind of outlet before his head exploded, and said, “Why the fuck not?”
Damon wagged his head but didn’t try to stop him from leaving with her. She couldn’t be too crazy if his bartender buddy didn’t cock block him. She towed him into the empty ladies room and pushed him against the peeling cinderblock wall. She was unzipping his fly before he’d even decided to fuck her. Tasting of cigarettes and desperation, she turned his stomach. The bourbon threatened to come back up. He used his palm to force her head back against the wall and hold her so she couldn’t kiss him again. He closed his eyes and saw Micki’s face, remembered her sweet tongue dancing in his mouth.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Diretto’s Grill and Bar wasn’t exactly The Ritz, but the animal-loving donors always forgave Larry’s choice of location so they could throw money at the shelter. The annual autumn fundraiser wasn’t anything fancy. People paid $25.00 for a plate of spaghetti, two handmade meatballs, and a hunk of garlic bread. A disposable cup of cheap Chianti cost an additional $10.00. It definitely wasn’t fancy, but they collected most of their donations here. Micki surveyed the busy serving line and absently toyed with her pen. Two volunteers, Shantel and her roommate, Lilli, spooned out the pasta and meatballs with cheery smiles and massive amounts of flirting. Cute young women brought out the generosity in some of the grouchy old guys who made up about half of Dal Pals’ donors. She gave the girls a thumbs-up and bent over her clipboard again. The list of donations was growing since she started making her rounds an hour earlier. Before the evening was over, she’d make a point of chatting with everyone individually. The personal touch helped loosen people’s wallets and that was her only goal tonight.
They absolutely had to raise enough money to build a new shelter. Winter was on the way and they had to move the rescued animals soon. Expat Security wasn’t a long-term solution.
“How’s it going with donations?” Grinning broadly, Larry sidled up to her. Wearing his typical slacks and ironed dress shirt, he was in his element. Shaking hands and convincing people to part with their money was one his talents. He could talk anyone into anything when he turned on the charm. This special skill had not gone unnoticed by the police, however, which kept him in hot water in his younger days. Five years in prison for fraud had cooled him off a bit. He’d been out for ten years now and swore he was completely reformed. When not working his day job as an accountant, he put all of his energy running Dal Pals. He claimed rescuing and rehabilitating animals was his calling. She believed him—most of the time. Why else would he bother?
She smiled and nodded politely to Mr. and Mrs. Leland as they passed by on their way to the bar. To Larry, she said, “Donations are about the same as last year. I’m tallying as I go. As of right now, we’ve got about 12k worth of pledges. It’s not enough for a new building. We really need your magic touch. How’s that coming? Any big spenders with big bank accounts?”
His grin faded. “Not great, but the night’s still young. I’ve got a few more people to talk to before Rudy tosses us all out for the night. Things have a way of working out for the best, so don’t worry. We’ll be okay.”
Something in his tone bothered her. It was filled with a false cheer that set off alarm bells ringing in the back of her mind. While conversation buzzed around them, she studied his face with more attention. What was he hiding? He didn’t notice her scrutiny because he was busy scanning the clusters of people. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. More sweat popped out on his forehead. He wrung his hands and murmured under his breath, “Yeah, everything will be fine.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Are you in trouble?”
“Oh, there’s John Chambers from Ultra Lite. I need to talk to him,” he explained as he walked off without answering her question.
“What the—”
“Fuck? Excellent question. I ask it all the time, and so far, no one has answers for me.”
“Excuse me?” She spun around to find two women grinning at her. Both were dressed casually, but there was no missing the quality of their clothes. Probably designer. They were around
her age, so that made them young women with expendable income and friendly smiles. Perfect! “Hi, ladies, can I sign you up for a donation tonight? Dal Pals desperately needs a new building, as Larry mentioned in his little welcome speech before dinner. We appreciate any amount, and I can give you a receipt for tax purposes.”
One of the women was a tall brunette with long flowing hair and extravagant body art up both arms. She introduced the two of them with a definite thread of amusement in her voice. “I’m Tallia. This is Dylan. And you’re Micki, the chick who’s banging Koivu.” Her sultry eyes looked her up and down, taking in Micki’s comfortable jeans and the plain blue sweater that showed off a flirty amount of cleavage. “You’re supposed to be fixing his shoulder, but all that fucking’s only making it worse. Would it kill you to stick to cowgirl until he’s better? ‘Cuz, dayam, if he’s half as hung as Nash, that’s the ride of your life right there. It’s not just his slammin’ body that makes you want to climb on top, is it? It’s the intensity—” She gave an exaggerated shudder and breathed, “Oh, yeah, and there’s a feral gleam in his eyes when he’s ready to fuck. Am I right? It’s not like that with most men, is it?” Her saucy grin broadened into a face-splitting smile as Micki stood speechless. Who was this woman?
Tallia kept talking. “They’re all like that. Comes with their jobs. Or maybe their DNA. Vanek and Benn are the same in the sack. Intense. Driven. It’s those damn eyes, darlin’. There’s some heat in them that’s just not human.” She draped her colorful arm around Dylan who wagged her head, choking with laughter. “Girls talk, right, Dyl?”
To Micki’s horror, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Er, um—”
Dylan tried not to laugh, but she did anyway. She also offered her hand and a more traditional, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. We wanted to find you before we left. We’ve heard a lot about you from the guys. Benn and Koivu have said nice things about you and, of course, there are the dogs in the garage. We were curious to see if you looked anything at all like Mother Theresa.”
“What’s that mean?” Micki turned her head and scanned the crowd for Koivu. He wasn’t planning to come tonight, but Tallia’s words brought the man front and center in her mind. It took a huge amount of effort to pull her attention back to the two women, who were still vastly amused, though no longer laughing in her face.
“Koivu talks about you like you’re some kind of saint. He’s very impressed, but we weren’t sure if you’d stick around long enough for us to meet. He’s not the easiest guy to like.” Dylan smiled easily. A sparkling diamond filled her ring finger. Ah, engaged. Must be nice.
“Hot as fuck though. No offense.” Tallia’s grey eyes widened with surprise. “Don’t look now. He’s here. By the way, he’s been cranky since he got back from Ta Rom with that bad shoulder. He’s actually tolerable now. Whatever you’re doing is putting him in a good mood.”
Sure. Must be all that fucking. She resisted a mammoth eye roll.
Dylan added, “It could be Ramses, though. I think he loves that dog, even if he’d never admit it. Now that the pooch is feeling better he follows Koivu everywhere. It’s adorable.”
“And speaking of the smoking hot devil . . .” Tallia breathed heavily and fanned her cleavage.
Micki felt him come up behind her. He radiated a certain energy, like a halo or maybe an industrial magnet. It tugged at her, demanding she notice him. As if she could somehow not . . . He draped his arm around her waist, drawing her close enough to feel the steely muscles beneath his shirt. Bending low, he asked suspiciously, “What are they saying about me? You can’t believe a word. These two are trouble.”
“Hi there.” She eased comfortably against his side, the fit so warm and natural that she didn’t question it. Instead, she breathed in his cologne and teased with a jaunty tilt of her head, “I’m sure they’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’m surprised to see you here tonight. You skipped our appointment today.”
He shrugged and replied with a light kiss on her temple, “Yeah, well, I was hungry and I heard there was food. How are the donations coming along?”
“We’re getting some from our usual donors, but it’s not enough to build a new shelter. The good news is I found an adopter who wants to take Lexi. I’m waiting to hear back from a foster family out on Staten Island. They might have room for a couple of our dogs.”
“That’s good news, but I have better.” Koivu flashed a grin and asked Tallia, “Have you told her yet?”
Tallia exchanged a sneaky look with Dylan and said, “Not yet. We were just getting acquainted when you walked in and distracted us.”
“I have that effect on women. So give her the good news.”
Micki finally got a word in when they stopped bantering long enough to take a breath. “I could use some good news. What’s up?”
Tallia’s eyes sparkled with excitement when she gushed, “I’m buying you a building! It’s still here in Brooklyn. It’s bigger than what you had and it’s almost ready to move in. It needs a little remodeling, but that shouldn’t take more than a few weeks. Because I’m so soft-hearted, I’m not going to charge Dal Pals any rent. Utilities and taxes are up to your organization though. My generosity doesn’t stretch that far.”
Completely stunned, Micki gasped, “Are you serious?” She swung around to face Koivu, demanding, “Did you do this?”
He threw up his hands in denial. “I had nothing to do with it. Tallia has more money than she knows what to do with so she’s donating it to a good cause. I wouldn’t say no if I were you.”
Still smiling, Tallia caught Micki by the elbow and started towing her towards the kitchen. “Let’s step out back for a smoke and we can talk details. If you think the new place will meet your needs, I can talk to Larry and get his consent. Based on what I’ve seen, the old garage I’ve got in mind would be the right size for a shelter. Plus it’s already got concrete floors and security bars. You wouldn’t have to completely renovate. I think it would work perfectly.”
“It sounds great! I can’t believe this! This is fabulous news!” Floating on a cloud of excitement, Micki held the door and waved Tallia through. Raised, angry voices stopped her cold. She recognized one of them. “Wait!” She snatched Tallia’s arm and dragged her back against the door. “Listen!”
“You don’t have to do this!” Larry protested. His panicked voice came from the other side of a dumpster that sat between the restaurant and the cellphone store. “Goddamn it, Grigori! I’m good for the money. You know I am!”
Another man sniggered rudely. He kept his voice lowered, but she could still hear every word of his accented English. “You say that every time, my friend. And yet, here we are again. Since the last message we sent did not motivate you, Solos has lost his patience. Consider this your final warning.”
“No! Wait!” Larry’s shout of alarm shocked Micki from her hiding place. A sudden flash of fire lit up the alley. Larry shrieked. The shrill scream gave her goosebumps and launched her into motion.
Micki bolted forward only to be stopped by an iron grip around her wrist. Koivu hauled her back inside the kitchen doorway. “Get back!” he hissed as he shut the door on her protests.
What on earth was going on with Larry? He’d been involved in some clever schemes before, but he’d promised he wasn’t doing anything shady now. He’d sworn he was walking the straight and narrow. She’d believed him. But now?
Tallia interrupted Micki’s musing. “Is that a friend of yours out there? Sounds like he pissed off the wrong guy.”
“That’s Larry. Do you know who this Solos is? Mob?”
Tallia’s throaty voice thickened with anger. “Yeah, I know of Solos, and yeah, he’s mob. Armenian not Italian. My ex had a run-in with Solos and his goons. It didn’t end well.” At Micki’s blank look, she explained, “My ex was a detective and a good one too. He lost three men in a shootout with Solos. During the chaos, Solos slipped away and has been staying under the radar for the past couple of year
s. I’ve got to say I’m surprised at Larry’s choice of friends. Solos doesn’t play. He’s vicious. He’s brutal. And he’s an impatient motherfucker. If Larry owes him money—”
The door jerked open so suddenly both of them jumped back with cries of alarm. Koivu hustled Larry into the kitchen without a backwards glance. Larry stumbled inside, his eyes round with shock. Micki surged forward with her heart in her throat. “Oh, my god! What happened to you?”
Larry’s unfocused eyes flitted around the room. He mumbled something incomprehensible and tried to cradle his hand against his stomach.
It was Koivu who answered her question. “Would you believe that asshole used a portable blowtorch? I’ve seen such things done in Hell, but I had no idea this kind of torture went on up here. It was the damn—” He slammed his mouth closed and nudged Larry forward again. “You should probably get your hand looked at. You’ve got a nasty burn there.”
A quick glance around the kitchen confirmed they were safe from prying ears. One of the dishwashers was busily scraping plates and stacking them into the restaurant’s commercial dishwasher. The lanky teenager bounced to the beat coming through his headphones while he worked. Other than him, the kitchen was empty. Micki kept her voice down, but demanded, “What on earth happened? Why are you burned?”
Larry’s shock was gone now. His eyes were bright and glittering with pain and anger. His cheeks were bleached white. “That sonofabitch! He’s gonna pay for this! I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Koivu interrupted. “You’re in over your head, man. That guy’s an animal. Let’s get out of here before the asshole with the torch is missed.”
“What did you do?” Micki hissed in his ear. “Did you kill him?”
He frowned at the question, but answered quickly. “I knocked his ass out, but he won’t be out for long. Someone’s waiting for him to check in and they’ll come looking when he doesn’t. Look, baby, I’m taking Larry out of here. You should stay here and finish what you need to do. We’ll be at Expat. Benn has medical training. He’ll take a look at him. Come by when you’re done here.”
Koivu (Demons After Dark Book Three) Page 13