My next question was, ‘How the fuck do you know anyone who needs a safe house?’
‘It’s a long story,’ he says. He doesn’t want to say it on the phone. Long story short, he owed a favor to Zane, the Russian mobster who became Alexander Malenkov, the world famous pianist. I had no idea Shane even knew Zane. Sometimes Shane surprises me. All my life I always treated him as a kid. The playboy of the family, but when the chips are down he always surprises me.
The man’s name is Noah Abramovich and, by the way, he’s injured. So I arranged for him to be collected from this doctor’s apartment and transferred to the safe house. This afternoon I’m supposed to pick up Tasha Evanoff and take her to him. I know her father rather well, actually. Corrupt as hell. His legitimate companies are a front for his shady businesses.
Tasha Evanoff and I agree to meet at Starbucks in Knightsbridge. I arrive five minutes before our appointed time, but she is already here. I recognize her straightaway. Butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth, a blue-eyed blonde Russian beauty with an inner core of pure steel.
She’s the opposite of my wife. My Lily looks tough on the outside, but she’s delicate inside. Sometimes when I look at her, I feel a twinge of worry. I’ll stand at the window watching her feeding her birds and she seems so far away, so unreachable that it makes me want to run down the stairs, grab her tight and fuck her so I’m inside her, I’m part of her.
So that there’s nothing else in her head and mind except me. It makes me fiercely protective. Ever since we got together I haven’t left her alone for a single night. I take her everywhere with me. If she can’t come, I don’t go. I don’t trust anyone else with her. No. Better safe than sorry.
‘Tasha Evanoff?’
‘Hello, Mr. Eden. Thank you for taking me to see him.’ Her accent is pure upper-class, the best that money can buy. She stands, even though the finishing schools she must have attended would have told her it was not necessary, and extends her hand. She is dressed in an expensively understated and very conservative blue top and skirt, but there’re a lot of secrets going on behind those wary eyes.
I take her hand. She has never done a day’s work in her life. ‘Jake Eden. No need to thank me. It’s a pleasure,’ I say.
She bites her bottom lip. ‘Is he alright?’
‘Other than suffering from a broken heart, yeah.’
She smiles.
‘That’s better.’ I look down at the table. She has nearly finished her latte.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asks.
‘Actually, no. I’m parked on double yellow lines.’
She picks up her purse and follows me out. There is no ticket on the windscreen. I open the passenger door and help her get in. She picks a toy from between her feet.
‘You have children?’
I smile. ‘Three.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yes, it is.’
I start the engine and my phone rings. ‘That’s my oldest one, Liliana, calling now.’ I put her on speaker and edge into traffic.
‘Daddy. You won’t believe what Tommy has done,’ she says furiously.
‘What has he done?’
‘He’s put a bucket of sand down my toilet and now it’s stuck.’
‘What did you do to him first?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Well, he started it.’
Tasha giggles.
‘Who’s that with you?’ she asks instantly.
‘You don’t know her,’ I say.
‘How do you know? I might,’ she says impertinently.
Tasha laughs again.
‘Does mummy know her?’
‘No, mummy doesn’t know her.’
‘Does she go to my school?’
‘Liliana, you don’t know her. Now can we get back to your problem with Tommy?’
‘But how do you know I don’t know her? I know lots of people. You should let me talk to her, Daddy,’ she says confidently in that adult voice that freaks most people out.
By now Tasha can’t stop giggling.
I look at Tasha. ‘Do you want to speak to my daughter?’
As I get on the M25 my daughter is busy thoroughly interrogating the daughter of one of London’s hidden Russian Mafia bosses. Fifteen minutes later and the conversation is still going strong.
‘You should come to our house,’ my daughter says. ‘You’ll like it here. We have a big dog, and a small cat, many fishes, two naughty hamsters and lots of birds. You can stay in the guest room. Do you want to come?’
‘Well, thank you. Maybe I’ll come around one day.’
‘Come this Friday,’ Liliana invites.
‘Er … maybe not this Friday,’ Tasha says.
‘What about Saturday?’ my daughter insists.
‘Liliana. How many times must I tell you not to force people to do things they don’t want to?’
‘I’m not forcing Tasha. She said she wanted to come.’
‘Anyway,’ I say. ‘Tasha has to go now. Say goodbye.’
‘Bye, Tasha. Daddy, about Tommy …’
‘Liliana, I’m just about to arrive. Can we discuss this a bit later?’
‘Oh, all right,’ she huffs.
‘Good girl.’
‘Love you,’ she says.
‘See you later.’
‘Say it back,’ she demands.
‘I love you, pumpkin.’
‘Bye, Daddy,’ she sings happily before the line goes dead.
‘What an awesome kid,’ Tasha says wishfully.
‘Try living with that 24 seven,’ I say, but in actual fact, I burst with pride when I think of her.
‘I’d love a kid like that,’ Tasha says. ‘She’s so intelligent and so alive.’
I smile. ‘Yes, she is that.’
I turn off at the Chertsey turning and after a few roads we turn into a dirt lane with fields on either side of the road. Suddenly a man appears as if out of nowhere on the road. He doesn’t move. Other men appear. They surround the car. I feel the energy in the car change. Their fierce, unkempt appearance and their unsmiling faces make Tasha nervous.
‘Who are these people?’ she asks.
‘They’re my people. Irish gypsies.’
She turns towards me. Her eyes are full of fear. ‘You trust them?’
I look her in the eye. ‘With my life.’
She exhales and I feel the tension drain out of her body.
I wind down the window.
One of the men lays his boxer’s arm on the top of the car and leans in. He smells of bacon and beer. ‘How’s it going, Craig?’ I ask.
His sparkling blue eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Mornin’ to ya, Jake, m’boy. No news is good news.’
Tasha Evanoff
After Jake and the man exchanged a few words in a dialect so thick I barely could make out what they were saying, the crowd of intimidating, dirty, staring people, who I assumed must be the inhabitants of the caravans in the fields on either side of us, part to allow the car through.
The car comes to a stop in front of a plain bungalow with a red roof. Noah is sitting outside smoking a cigarette. To my great relief he looks well. When he sees the car he flicks away his cigarette and comes up to us as we get out.
‘I’ll be having a beer with the boys, but I’ll be back to pick her up in an hour,’ Jake says as he closes his door.
‘Thanks,’ Noah says.
‘No problem,’ he throws over his shoulder, his long, muscular legs already walking away.
I stand there, my chin slightly dipped, looking at Noah. In the cold light of the day I feel suddenly shy. A weak autumn sun struggles out from under grey clouds and shines down on us. He crooks his finger at me.
I pretend to look around, then raise my eyebrows, and point to my chest.
Grinning, he nods.
God, I love him so much. I run to him, my heart so stuffed with love it feels like it will burst. He takes my hand and
twirls me around. ‘How come you’re more beautiful every time I see you?’
I grin like some kind of fool, and he gathers me in his arms and kisses me. Right there on the concrete driveway. A long, slow burning kiss that just goes on and on.
Oh, Noah, Noah, Noah.
By the time he lifts his head, my cheeks are hot and my lips are tingling.
‘I love you,’ I whisper.
‘I’d burn everything I own down to the ground for you.’
‘I’ve burnt everything I own to the ground for you,’ I say.
He caresses my face with his thumbs. ‘I want to wake up with a kiss like that every morning,’ he says.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really. Can you do that?’
I nod.
‘Good. I’ll hold you to that.’
‘Tell me,’ I say with a flirtatious grin. ‘When did you first know you loved me?’
‘Hard to say. I wanted you for so long, the lines are blurred.’
‘What kind of boring answer is that?’ I complain. ‘I can’t tell my grandchildren that. Make up something better.’
‘All right. I loved you before I was born, but I was forced to forget you because the pain of not having you was too unbearable, but all that time I knew that you were out there waiting for me. Many summers ago I saw you lying by the pool and I thought it was you, but I couldn’t be sure. Until the day you showed up in a pink cardigan and I knew, my magic had returned.’
I gasp. ‘That’s beautiful.’
‘I have so much to tell and find out from you, but I’m dying to fuck you,’ he groans.
‘What makes you think I’m not?’ I ask cheekily.
He laughs and takes me into the bungalow. It’s basic inside with cheap furniture and two rooms leading off from the hallway. Through one of the open doors I can see the bedroom with an unmade bed.
I look deep into his eyes. ‘We’ll have to be very careful. I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Fuck being careful. That’s for the others. Not us. Now will you take that dress off before I go mad?’
With a grin I unzip my dress and let it fall to the ground. Underneath I have on a skin-tight nurse’s outfit and garters. His eyes widen.
‘Well, well,’ he says softly.
‘Are you staring at me, Mr. Abramovich?’
‘I’m always staring at you, Beautiful,’ he purrs, his eyes swirling with appreciation and hot desire.
I flutter my eyelashes. ‘So you don’t think I look too slutty?’
‘Never.’
I lick my lips lusciously. ‘You’re not just saying that?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nope.’
‘You’re too kind, Mr. Abramovich.’
‘Actually, I’m not feeling particularly kind right now.’
I take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. I go to the bed and pretend to plump the pillows, bending from the waist to reach for them so he can see my naked bottom. I turn around and his face is a picture.
‘Come and lie down on the bed so I can take your temperature. You may have a fever,’ I say.
‘Yeah, let’s call it a fever.’
‘Now come over here quickly. The doctor will be here soon. I don’t want to lose my license to practice over this … episode. You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘Nope.’
‘Oh good. It’s very important that us nurses keep our reputations pure. If not, every Tom, Dick and Harry will be wanting a little extra, if you know what I mean.’
‘Don’t worry. I totally understand,’ he says.
He walks over to the bed and lies down on it.
I get on the bed and start unzipping his pants.
‘I thought you were going to take my temperature,’ he says with just a hint of amusement in his voice.
I look at him sternly. ‘Give me a minute. I’m just about to.’
His cock is as hard as a rock and it springs up when I release it. Wrapping my fingers around it, they look very feminine and white against the blood engorged hardness of his shaft. I smile mischievously at him. ‘Hot and hard, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m glad you figured that one out, Nurse Evanoff.’
‘Are you being unnecessarily cheeky, Mr. Abramovich?’
He shakes his head.
I touch his balls. ‘Do they feel tight and achy?’
‘They do,’ he agrees solemnly.
‘I thought so.’
I bend down and plant a gentle kiss on his cockhead. His cock twitches in response. I take him in my mouth and slide my lips slowly down the smooth, hot shaft while he groans with pleasure. Sucking him hard I pull my mouth away with a slurping sound. Then I lift my head.
‘Mr. Abramovich, have you ever done it with a nurse before?’ I ask, my voice all sultry and breathy.
‘No,’ he admits.
‘Have you ever wanted to?’
‘Mmmm … it wasn’t a great priority … until today.’
I yank my dress until it is bunched up around my waist. Then I spread open my legs and watch him stare at my freshly shaven pussy, with my clit poking out of its wet slit, and begging, just begging, to be fucked. Sitting down in his lap, I slide my pussy lips against his thick shaft.
‘Do our bits joined together look like a hotdog, Mr. Abramovich?’ I ask cheekily as I carry on running my crack up and down his hard dick.
‘Oh fuck,’ he swears, and tries to catch my waist and put me on his cock, but I slap his hands away.
‘Patience, Mr. Abramovich. We have to be careful how we go about this.’
Soon my slit begins to slop against him and I can tell by his face that he is getting to the end of his tolerance. I rise up over him and inch by inch I impale myself on his shaft. Just a few days without him has been like forever to my body. I feel him stretch me and fill me completely. It feels so damn good I lay my palms on either side of him, and throwing my head back, ride him hard and deep, working up a sweat. I don’t stop until my whole body starts to shake with my impending climax.
Sensing how close I am, he grabs hold of my bottom and pulls me more tightly against him, and more violently than can be good for his wound, thrusts upwards to squirt his seed as deeply inside me as he can. It seems as if it is ages that his cock spurts and spits inside me.
Panting, I grin at him. ‘Do you feel any better, Mr. Abramovich?’
‘Miles,’ he murmurs and, pulling my body closer, he kisses me deeply.
‘I love you, Nurse Evanoff. I really, really, really fucking love you.’
‘Well,’ I breathe. ‘I have to say, you are my best patient, Mr. Abramovich.’
‘There better not be any other or you’ll be dressing up as a morgue attendant soon.’
‘It was always you for me,’ I whisper.
Then I curl up against the unhurt side of his body and we talk. I tell him everything that has happened from the devastating moment I found Sergei, and he tells me about the doctor who found him on the street half dead. About the favor that Jake Eden’s brother owed to Alexander Malenkov. Finally, he tells me what his men have heard on the streets about my father’s disappearance.
‘What are they saying?’
‘That Evanoff’s daughter was seen at Dimitri Semenov’s nightclub the day before he disappeared, but they have nothing else. No one knows anything.’
Then it is time for me to get dressed again.
Jack Irish
One Week Later
I look out of my window to the street below and I see the man dressed in a black leather jacket and black pants leaning against the lamppost across the street, smoking a cigarette.
The ground at his feet is littered with cigarette butts. I shrug into my jacket, stick my knife into the back of my jeans, and I go back to the window. He is still there looking as if he hasn’t a care in the world, but his eyes are sharp and alert.
I go down to the foyer, out into the crisp morning air, and cross the street. He straightens from his leaning position and flicks his
cigarette away. He smiles showing nicotine stained teeth. His hands are full of tattoos. He opens his box of Marlboro red and offers it to me.
‘That stuff will kill you,’ I say.
‘It’ll be a great thing if it’s cigarettes that take me,’ he says. His voice is whiskey-or-rather-vodka gravelly, and his accent makes him sound like he just got off the boat from Russia.
‘What are you still doing here?’
He shrugs. ‘Just admiring the view.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah, it’s beautiful around here. Boss sends his regards by the way.’
I sigh. ‘I thought the danger was past,’ I say.
He grins. ‘When you smash the head sometimes the tail jumps around for a bit.’
‘Right. Tell your boss I don’t want to see anybody hanging around here after today. We’re quits. I did what was right and he owes me nothing,’ I say as I turn away.
‘It’s good to have friends. Maybe one day you need his help, da?’
I turn back and feel the knife in my waistband dig into my back. ‘Maybe never.’
‘Never is a long time, Mr. Irish.’
Tasha Evanoff
One Month Later
A man slides into the seat in front of me.
I glance up and, showing no change to my expression, take a sip of my latte. ‘Hello, Inspector Stone,’ I say.
He smiles. He has a pleasant smile. I’ve wondered about him. If he has a wife and children. What he’s like when he is not facing someone he believes is a murder suspect.
‘You’ve been shopping I see,’ he says.
I was out shopping for a birthday present for Baba, but I’m damned if I’m going to give him an account of my shopping habits. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with him, or his investigation. I look at him steadily and without any reaction.
‘Is the food in this place any good?’ he asks.
‘I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’
A waitress comes by with a menu. He takes the menu but doesn’t open it. ‘What’s good here?’ he asks her.
She shrugs and smiles. ‘I’m a vegetarian, but I hear it’s all good.’
‘Can I have a burger?’
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