Still, he began to breathe easier as they crawled out of Portland traffic and onto I-84 without the weapon going off at each sudden stop.
Val slept in the passenger seat with his face pressed against the window.
He was remarkably trusting for a young man who had seen and done as much as he had. But then, he was also just remarkably young. Perhaps that accounted for it. Perhaps Maksim’s cynicism was merely the result of too many decades spent alone.
The only person he’d ever shared his life with for more than a month or two had been his mother. She was his entire world when he was a boy. He hadn’t wanted or needed anyone else, and that was good, because there had been no one except her.
The only decision she’d ever made against his wishes was bringing him to the States. He’d been afraid to leave the only world he knew. To this day, he wasn’t sure whether they had been fleeing something in particular or merely their crushing poverty.
They’d settled in Pittsburgh, and she was so proud when Maksim was awarded a scholarship to private school. Perhaps their poverty had been slightly less debilitating than it was in the Ukraine, but it had been far more apparent to Maksim when he compared himself to his classmates.
He’d worked so hard, but he’d never gotten to give her the life she deserved. He hadn’t even completed law school before she passed away.
He remembered sitting in the hospital with her, night after night, with a textbook on his lap. She’d died before she could witness his success, before he’d earned his first penny, before he could do anything to repay her for everything she’d done for him.
His ambition didn’t die with her, however. He’d already developed a vision of what his life was supposed to be, and he couldn’t stop until he’d reached that goal, even though she was no longer there to share it with him.
He didn’t exactly regret his choices. Money had made his life obscenely comfortable, and in turn, he was able to help others where he could. He donated to charity, was a member of a low income Sudbury school board, and did more pro bono work than anyone in his firm.
None of it filled the void that had been left when his mother died, however.
As the years passed, he realized he’d invested in everything except actual human connection. He drifted like a specter through the lives of others, mattering to no one, and letting no one matter to him.
Until Emma, the ridiculous girl.
Traffic picked up just outside the town of Hood River. They crossed a suspension bridge with frosted steel girders that gleamed in the weak winter sunshine. Redwing blackbirds fluttered in the frozen cattails lining the riverbank.
The town was pristine and cheery, but it didn’t feel like a place that would welcome men like them. Not because they were both gay — though he was certain Val was — but because they were damaged.
They’d stand out like sore thumbs amidst the quaint townsfolk of upper-middle-class suburbia. There were too many scuffs and dents on them.
Not that he had anything on Val’s damage, of course. The man clearly had significant PTSD and refused to seek treatment for it. But Maksim couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the desolation he sometimes witnessed in the other man’s expression.
Neither of them had anyone else to rely on, but they were sick to death of relying on themselves. It may not have begun as self-imposed isolation, but that was what their lives had become.
A car in front of them fishtailed on the icy road. He braked hard.
Val jerked awake, limbs flailing.
“Sorry.”
He looked around groggily. “Where are we?”
“About a half hour from The Dalles.”
“Damn.” He blinked rapidly and scrubbed his hands through his hair. Maksim found himself fond of the boyish way his black locks fell across his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“It might have something to do with a bullet,” he suggested dryly.
Val chuckled. “Maybe. I’ve never been shot before, but I’ve been injured plenty of times. I could always keep my eyes open until I got someplace safe.”
“Maybe you feel safe.” It was said idly, but Maksim realized a second too late that it sounded like a creepy mix of intimacy and self-aggrandizement.
Val was silent, with a pensive expression on his sleep-lined face, so he decided to change the subject. “The Dalles isn’t very big. How do you know we won’t end up staying at the same motel as Russo?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t stay in a place like that if his life depended on it. Especially if his wife is with him, which she always is. He’ll have his driver take them back toward civilization.”
“Did you know him before you began working for him?”
“Only by mouth. Pop talked about him sometimes.” He straightened up in his seat and cracked his neck, attempting to clear the cobwebs. “Word gets around an Italian community. You hear things. I knew about him, and he obviously knew about me.”
“What is he like?” Maksim was curious why a streetwise kid like Val would be so hesitant to doubt the man.
Val rolled his eyes back thoughtfully. “He’s… old school, I guess. Think Goodfellas. He can be a brutal fuck. Pop used to tell me stories…” he trailed off.
Maksim cut his eyes to him and caught the edge of his expression as he gazed out the window. It didn’t look like a happy memory. “Folks say he’s a man of his word,” he continued. “But he’s a businessman when you get down to it, and if someone interferes with his bottom line… well, he handles it the Sicilian way.”
“In that case, should we be doing this?”
Val looked wary. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve always been told to never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line,” he said gravely.
There was a beat of silence, then Val choked on a snort. A moment later he threw his head back and laughed.
Maksim couldn’t help but look at him, his gaze drawn by the happy rumble, but held by the flexing muscles in Val’s throat. Val’s expression eased, and just for a moment, he looked young and unburdened.
Maksim’s breath hitched. He jerked his attention back to the road.
Val wiped his eyes and grinned. “You’re a real movie nerd, you know?”
“A man needs to pass the time somehow.”
“I thought that’s what sex was for.”
There it was, a vision of Val having sex pounding through his brain. That hard body, naked and flexing in an ever faster rhythm, would be a thing of beauty.
“Since Portland isn’t yet buried in a sea of bodies, I’d imagine you have a lot of downtime. Is that how you pass it?”
“It used to be.” Val shifted uncomfortably. “There’s a… culture, I guess you would call it, when you join spec ops. If you weren’t married, and sometimes even if you were, you were expected to be at the bars with everyone else. Work hard, play hard, you know?”
Maksim nodded. “Even though you’re gay?”
Val didn’t seem surprised that he’d figured it out. “You know, that’s the funniest part. My unit didn’t give a rat’s ass about me liking dick, so long as I pulled a lot of it. Being able to score, that was the sign of a man.”
“What about now?”
“I buried my entire family this winter. I put people in the ground for no good reason. Sex hasn’t been a priority.”
Maksim didn’t reply. He flipped on his signal and exited the freeway when GPS told him to.
Val didn’t seem comfortable dropping the conversation on such a delicate subject. He cleared his throat and asked, “You’ve got no family either, huh?”
“What makes you think so?”
“Your apartment. No pictures. No Christmas cards. It looked like an Air BnB.”
“My designer would be mortified to hear that.” He turned away from the silver strip of river winding through town and aimed toward a tall neon sign that read The Wasco 24 Hr Motel.
The conversation died after that, and they were occupied checking in.<
br />
Val didn’t want to leave the rifle in the truck, so he grabbed a few blankets from the room and bundled the weapon in that. It didn’t look any less suspicious that way, but the parking lot was empty, and they were too tired to give much of a damn.
They had dinner at the nearest place, which turned out to be a trendy brewery with surprisingly decent food. They’d both had enough what-ifs to last them a lifetime, so while they ate, they discussed everything except their present situation.
“Oh, no, sniper training requires tons of math,” Val said as he sipped his Black Butte.
The plates had been cleared, but they were still working on their drinks, and exhausted as they were, neither were in a hurry to return to the motel until they were good and ready to crash.
“We’ve got computers now, but it’s still important to know how to do the calculations if your equipment malfunctions. So you’ve got advanced calculations for distance, wind speed, height, and bullet trajectory. You do it in your head while staring through a scope, and if your target moves even an inch, you’re boned. Meanwhile, your spotter won’t shut up and keeps distracting you.”
“I enjoy performing under pressure, but that sounds like a bit much for me,” Maksim drawled. He swirled the scotch in his glass and asked, “So why did you say you weren’t college material? You clearly are.”
Val blinked in surprise. He frowned and set down his beer. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Of course, it is. I graduated summa cum laude, and I can’t do what you did. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Yeah, but it’s like…” He scratched his chin as if it would stir up the words he was searching for. “It’s real world stuff. It’s tangible, you know? It’s not me sitting in a lecture while an instructor drones on about pie charts and interest rates on the watermelons little Suzie bought at the county fair.”
Maksim chuckled. “But if you replace the chart with a classified report, the watermelons become ammunition, and the interest is the velocity a bullet travels… you could do it? In your head?”
Val scowled. “It’s not the same,” he insisted. “Besides, there’s all those other requirements: speech and writing and shit like that.”
“Your speech is fine, and your grasp of the English language is above average. If you don’t want to go, just say so. You’re a grown man. You don’t need excuses.”
Val glared. Maksim had been sitting across the table from the man for more than an hour, and he’d concluded that those flinty eyes beneath Val’s strong, dark brows were truly distracting.
“Thanks, Doctor Phil,” Val grumbled. “I know that. But you grow up hearing something enough—”
“Then you prove the bastards wrong,” Maksim finished in his stead.
Val rocked back and threw up his hands in defeat. His smile was crooked and boyish, and it made Maksim want to smile back. So, he did.
“Yeah, okay, point taken,” Val said. “If I ever get my life back, I’ll consider it.”
Maksim gave a nod of satisfaction and finished his drink in one swallow. It wasn’t until he set the glass down that he noticed Val staring at his throat in a peculiar, hungry manner. He raised a brow.
Val licked his lips, eyes darting away. “You must think I’m a real fuckup.”
“Why would that be?”
“You’re kidding, right? I barely graduated high school. I washed out of Recon. I’m twenty-four years old, and I have no functional work experience besides shooting people. I let myself get blackmailed into doing horrible shit for horrible people. I’m like the antithesis of everything you stand for.”
He tried to say it lightly, but bitterness leaked through. His expression was dark, and his eyes, normally so direct, couldn’t hold his gaze.
Maksim clasped his hands together and leaned forward over the table. He waited in silence until Val looked directly at him. When he spoke, he kept his voice low and earnest, the same tone he’d used to reassure countless people over the course of his career.
“You’re right. You’re the opposite of me.” Val opened his mouth, but he held up a hand and said sharply, “No, you need to hear this. Since there’s no one else around to give it to you straight, I will.”
Val looked like he was bracing himself for a kick in the teeth. He gave a single nod.
“I may have had fewer advantages than you growing up, but I sense it wasn’t by much. What I did have was access to good schools and a mother who would sell her kidney to give me an extra boost to a better life. You had a father who wanted you to inherit the family business of petty fraud and riding on a violent psychopath’s coattails. I’m not saying that with any judgment,” he forestalled the defensive straightening of Val’s posture. “From what you’ve told me, he gave you love and treated you well. That’s more than many fathers, my own included, whoever the hell he was. But your father didn’t do you any favors, either.”
The restaurant staff had lit miniature frosted glass lamps on each table as the sun went down. The orange flame flickered between them.
Maksim wasn’t complaining about the added sense of intimacy. It had been an excruciatingly long time since he’d given much of a damn for anyone other than himself and Emma. If this damaged young man with the eyes of a doe and the body of a beast caught his interest, he would not feel guilty about it, no matter the poor timing.
“You’re brave enough and skilled enough to have served your country for six years, in a position that’s only given to Marines who excel at what they do. But more importantly, you were strong enough to walk away when you realized it wasn’t what you needed. Your heart is big enough that you’re still punishing yourself for what you did under orders. When you came home, instead of finding a soft place to land, you found your parents in a mess, and you sold your soul to keep them safe.”
That telltale flush had worked its way up the back of Val’s neck once more, and this time Maksim didn’t resist his impulse to touch. He reached across the table and cupped one hand gently against that hot skin, drawing Val forward until only the space of a few breaths separated them.
“I’ve spent my entire life looking after only myself,” Maksim said. “The only thing I have going for me is my intelligence, which I’m aware is only eclipsed by my arrogance. You’ve remained humble and big-hearted despite having seen so much terrible shit.”
He couldn’t place the expression working across Val’s face, but the man shifted uncomfortably, and it hit him like a hammer that he’d probably said too much.
He released Val like he’d been burned, and they simultaneously leaned away from each other.
Val scrutinized the dark riverfront out the window.
Staring at Val’s tight profile, Maksim was disgusted with himself. For the first time in his life, he felt like a creepy, lonely old man. He sighed. “At any rate, you’re only twenty-four. You have a lifetime of potential to live up to. Try being over forty and realizing this is as good as it gets.”
He shoved away from the table and snatched up the check. “I’m tired. Let’s head back.”
16
Val
Val cranked off the hot water with a viciousness the faucet didn’t deserve. The shower flowed to a trickle but didn’t seem like it planned to stop without the intervention of a plumber’s wrench.
The motel was clean and pleasant, a step up from the dive they’d stayed at last night, but the water heater must have been the size of a walnut. He’d found himself taking an unintentional cold shower five minutes in.
Not that a cold shower was a bad idea after being trapped in a vehicle with Maksim Kovalenko and his addictive fucking scent all afternoon.
But the real torture was being the sole focus of his unwavering, razor sharp attention during dinner. All evening, Val had gotten caught up in ridiculous details, like the way Maksim licked his lips after a swallow of scotch, or the elegant length of his fingers as he cut his steak.
He’d needed some time to clear his head when they got back to
their motel. He was grimy as hell, so he’d taped a plastic bag around his bandage and disappeared into a bathroom that reeked of bleach and ivory soap.
His head was spinning, thoughts pinballing from one extreme to another. God, he was so fucked up.
Part of him wanted to believe Maksim had some magical inside line on what made him tick. Val desperately wanted to believe someone as cool and capable as his attorney could see something redeemable inside him. But the fact of the matter was, no one could see inside him. If they could, they’d be horrified.
Val liked to think he wasn’t an evil man, despite having done evil things, but he didn’t hold out much hope for himself when it came to weakness, laziness, or just plain lacking the smarts to figure out better alternatives.
He should have let Pop go to jail. If he had, he’d have been there for his mother when she needed him, instead of avoiding her out of resentment and shame.
Both his parents might be alive if he’d been stronger against her pleading.
The two men he’d killed on Dominic Russo’s orders would still be dead, but at least it would have been by someone else’s hand.
He swiped a hand over his stinging eyes and climbed out of the tub. The towels were thin and scratchy, but he managed to get one tucked around his waist.
The ghost of Maksim’s hand was still on his neck. Even the pounding water hadn’t washed away how crazy good it had felt, all smooth skin over an iron grip. He was fixated on the way Maksim’s thumb had stroked the side of his throat. His gaze was like a harpoon that had shot directly through Val’s chest and hooked his heart.
It had taken every ounce of will he possessed to keep from leaning a few inches closer and capturing that hard, brilliant mouth beneath his. He’d sprung an erection right there in the restaurant, squirming like a schoolboy. He’d been forced to discreetly adjust his hard dick before standing and making a fool of himself.
He didn’t think Maksim meant anything by it. Arrogant, devil-may-care flirtation was part and parcel of his charm. It had even worked some magic with that hard-nosed lady detective.
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