Chapter Twenty-Three
In which all Liria wanted was one night out. Was that too much to ask?
Liria…
Alexsey is home by the time I drop off Caroline and head back to the loft.
I take advantage of his home gym - when he's not home, anyway - and I need it now. If I can't work off the approximately eighteen thousand calories I consumed today, the only item of clothing I'll be able to wear tonight is one with an elastic waistband.
"How was your day?" Alexsey is sorting through some paperwork on the dining table. His jeans are clean, but there's a rip in his shirt and a spatter of red on his forearm, obscuring part of the snake tattoo there. I don't know if it's blood or paint.
"Um, it was good, thank you." I'm still staring at that spray of red on his arm. "That was so kind of you to set Caroline and the Idiots - I mean, Mikal and Bobby - up like that, the hotel, and the driver. I didn't expect it."
There is a pile of photos on the table and he fans them out. They're black and white and grainy, so I'm assuming they're surveillance pictures. "It was no problem," he says, still focused on the images. "They are guests of the Morozov family."
I deflate slightly. So, he only did this to uphold the sacred Morozov name?
Now, he looks up, blue eyes clear, blessedly, not chilly this time. "I know you've missed your cousins a lot."
Aaand, stupid Hope pokes insistently at my mood board, trying to get center space by shoving aside my regulars, Suspicion and Anxiety.
"It means a lot to me," I say, perching a hip on the table's edge. "Actually, I was just expecting Caroline. Her brothers insisted on crashing the party. She tells me they're hoping to hit you up for a job."
He taps the photos with one finger, thinking. "Bobby and Mikal… low-level drug and gun trade in the Boston area. They haven't had a single arrest yet, so they've been careful, or they have buddies in the Boston PD."
My brows draw together. "How do you know that?"
"We'll be picking them up for dinner at eight," he says absently. "Let Caroline know."
Whatever.
***
"Tell me more about your cousins. What did you call them, Idiots One and Two?"
We're heading over to The Beauford to pick up Caroline and the guys.
Alexsey looks mouthwatering in a crisp white shirt and blue blazer.
If I didn't resent him for the whiplash in feelings, I'd be entertaining filthy thoughts about him.
His tanned skin glows and with the collar of his shirt open, I can see the edge of the wolf's head snarling on his chest.
"That's Caroline's nickname. They're not idiots, they're just…
They love the lifestyle. The guns. The suits.
" I roll my eyes. "The women. But as you said earlier, they have a great relationship with the Boston P.D.
and not a single arrest warrant. Even their defense attorney can't believe it.
They do have a lot of contacts in the area.
While they'll never be trying to claw their way up to the top of the food chain, they're steady guys. "
I'm sitting as far as I can on the other side of the Bentley, knees and elbows drawn tight to my body, posture perfect.
Alexsey is sprawled comfortably on his side, eyes scanning the streets, other cars, the crowd of teenagers strolling across the street, who are not bothering to hurry even when the light turns green.
His posture is relaxed, but he's constantly vigilant.
It must be exhausting.
Dinner is in a renovated warehouse that overlooks the harbor.
The dusty iron fixtures still loom over us and the polished wood floor still bears the long gouges of the equipment that's been dragged through here.
The tables are pristine, though. Snowy white tablecloths, a lavish wildflower centerpiece and hand-blown wine glasses.
I feel like a pretentious asshole.
There is a circle of bodyguards surrounding the table, blocking the view of the dining room, like a Morozov is too important to eat dinner without a squadron of soldiers to guard them.
There are six of us at the table, Alexsey's Vtoroy, his second in command, joins us.
Tolya boasts some impressive prison tattoos, right down to his knuckles.
He's tall, though not as towering as Alexsey, and charming.
In fact, he's charming the hell out of Caroline.
He charms her through the fennel salad with duck foie gras.
This onslaught continues during a course of swordfish, and the perfect little coffee mousse with hazelnuts and melon.
She's a bright pink and I'm enjoying the show.
Alexsey is barking questions at poor Mikal and Bobby like some extraordinarily hostile job interview, and that's almost as entertaining as Tolya's whole seduction act.
She leans over when he excuses himself to take a call. "What do you think?"
"Poor man." I hide my grin behind a spoonful of mousse. "He has no idea that you will steamroll right over him in bed and leave him in the morning, a broken shell of a man."
"I always love that look of bleak resignation they get when I've taken everything I want from them," she agrees, smiling in a misty fashion.
Alexsey might have heard a bit of our conversation, he's watching us, lips pressed together like he's holding in his amusement. "I believe Caroline said she wanted to go clubbing at one of the Morozov places for the free drinks?"
Bobby and Mikal cheer up, hearing this. They're short, stocky guys with Caroline's coloring but none of her cunning. "We'd never turn down free drinks," Bobby says solemnly. We pile back into the car.
***
"This place is fucking amazing!" Caroline screams in my ear.
Omnia is an experience. The enormous dance floor is surrounded by concentric neon loops that rotate and swirl.
It's dizzying. There are several lit paths through the club like some delirious version of the yellow brick road.
Rapt clubbers weave along the paths, heading further into the club to whatever mysterious delights await.
A couple stumbles back out of one destination, naked and covered in neon paint.
"We should avoid that one," I shout to Caroline.
"I'm taking you up to the VIP section before you get into trouble," Alexsey says, taking my hand and pushing through the crowd like a trawler breaking ice in the North Sea. When people recognize him, their eyes widen and they step back hastily, stumbling over their partners.
Even the VIP section has a social hierarchy, with the hostess leading us to the top section with long, low velvet couches and an eerie neon underglow on everything, the furniture, the bar.
There are glow in the dark footprints painted to lead VIP'ers to the bathroom, or the bar, or another private room.
Settled on the couch with a cocktail in hand, I watch my cousins stumble over each other to thank Alexsey for a, "Wicked fuckin' night," as Mikal says so eloquently.
"Hell of a place," Caroline leans in to shout in my ear, "I think I might be getting too old for this much hysteria, though."
"Agreed," I holler back. "I'm sure he picked it to appeal to the guys; it's loud, crowded, there are hot girls." At the ripe age of twenty-four, I'm past that. I like the quieter, laid back mood of a lounge with good drinks and the ability to speak to your friends without shouting.
I groan when I realize I need to visit the ladies' room. I'd ask Caroline to join me in the time-honored tradition of girlfriends everywhere, but I can tell she's almost got Tolya wrapped around her manicured thumb. Danyl steps up next to me as I rise.
"Can you point me in the direction of the bathrooms?" I ask.
"Come with me," he says, following the pink set of neon footprints and then waits in the hall outside of the bathroom.
The ladies' room may be just for the VIP section, but it's still crowded with girls in tiny dresses. They are leisurely touching up their makeup and sniffing cocaine, making it impossible to get to the bathroom stalls.
If Caroline were with me, she'd grab my hand and shove her way into the men's room instead.
With a groan, I turn toward the back stairs. There's usually a staff bathroom by the kitchen, maybe they wouldn't mind me borrowing it. The stairs are lit, but the hall is shadowy. I walk past a couple of alcoves with stacks of chairs and some tables pushed inside.
As I pass the third alcove, a hand shoots out, grabbing me by the throat, yanking me out of the hall.
Fingers clamp down viciously against my throat, I open my mouth to scream and a croak comes out.
A brief flash of light, reflected off the silver blade of a knife and I twist, driving my elbow into my attacker's chest. Their grip on my throat loosens slightly, I angle to the left and the blade slams into the wall, right next to my head.
I let out a scream that scrapes my throat raw and drive my wrists up, breaking their hold as they make another swipe with the knife. It slices through my dress and gashes the side of my neck, sending warm blood flowing over my shoulder.
Not another pass - another pass and they've got me…
Screaming again, I duck, driving my head up hard and clipping them in the chin. Their head snaps back. It's dark, I can't tell how tall they are but their arms are long and they're still holding that knife.
High heels have never been my friend, but this time, they send me off balance in the right direction and the blade swipes through empty space. I knock hard against the wall as a huge body races into the alcove, tearing into the person trying to kill me.
"Miss Liria, here-" Danyl's got me under the arms, inelegantly hoisting me up and away from the fight. I see the bright flash of a gun muzzle and the wet, choking croak of a dead man who just doesn't know it yet.
Alexsey steps into the dim hallway. There's a spray of blood across one high cheekbone and his eyes are fire.
Oh, I think, another blood spray to match the one from this afternoon.
Then, I pass out.
***
"How the fuck did this happen!"
Reluctantly opening my eyes, I see Alexsey shouting at Danyl, his face red with fury. "Where the fuck were you, Danyl, when my wife was nearly stabbed to death?" Alexsey's hand is pressed, hard, against my neck, keeping a bandage on the gash.
Danyl is standing there stoically, like he's waiting for Alexsey to pull out his gun again and shoot him.
"It's not his fault." I sound horrible. My throat feels like it's had a couple of hard passes with some sandpaper. "He was waiting for me by the bathroom. It was crowded, so I headed downstairs to use the employee one. He didn't see me."
Alexsey whirls on me. "What the hell were you thinking!"
"Fuck you!" I rasp. "Stop screaming at me. I'm not your employee." Then I ruin my strong stance by sobbing, my hand going up to where I'd been cut.
The door slams open and Caroline blazes in. "Don't you yell at her!" She drops to her knees by the couch I'm lying on, jostling Alexsey for space. "Fam, I'm so sorry, I should have come with you, how bad is it?"
"She was lucky," Alexsey says between tight lips. "The blade went across the skin where her neck meets her shoulder. He was aiming for her carotid, two inches over."
I got thrown from my horse at summer camp when I was twelve.
I broke my arm when I hit the dirt, a compound fracture.
The bone was sticking out of my arm, just a bit, making the skin around it pull tight.
There was a high, floaty feeling, carrying me away on frothy bubbles as the camp medic explained the situation.
I'm getting that feeling right now, like my head's about to drift away.
"- held him off. He could have cut her throat in ten seconds-"
"What the hell is wrong with you! Don't talk like that in front of-"
"Mrs. Morozova? I'm Dr. Smirnov. Can you hear me?" Someone else has taken Alesey's place, an older man with wire-rimmed glasses and a kind face.
It takes three slow blinks, but I get the power of speech back. "Hi, Dr. Smirnov, sorry they dragged you away from dinner."
He chuckles before straightening his glasses and putting on some gloves. "I'm a boutique doctor, so to speak. The salary is much better than what I'd be getting at a hospital. I can take a few late dinners. I'm going to look at this cut, all right?"
Caroline insists on holding my hand, glaring at Alexsey with such heat that I'm surprised he hasn't burst into flame.
"You were lucky," Dr. Smirnov murmurs. "This will just need a couple of very fine stitches and a bandage. You won't have much of a scar, if at all."
"Aw, come on," I smile, a little loopy from the lidocaine he injected. "What about my street cred? Maybe you could make it bigger?"
He pulls the hand back holding the needle. "Mrs. Morozova, it is very bad form to make the doctor hovering over you with a needle laugh."
"Sorry," I nod sternly, "of course."
It takes just a few deft touches and he's done, carefully bandaging the little wound and sternly advising me about preventing infection.
Caroline helps me sit up with a big, fake smile. "Let's get you home." She flashes a resentful glance at Alexsey. "In fact, why don't you spend the night with me? I can keep an eye on you."
"It's not a concussion," I wobble a bit as I stand. "You don't need to check my pupils and ask me what year it is."
"What are you doing, standing up!" Alexsey's on me in a second, trying to scoop me up.
"Stop."
Everyone's quiet. Mikal and Bobby were talking to the club's manager. Danyl is a gloomy sentinel by the door and even Caroline shuts her mouth.
Forcing myself to face Alexsey, I say, "I don't need to be carried. You don't need to do anything. I'd like to go home. If you need to stay here and… you know, clean things up, I'm sure someone can drive me."
He's staring at me like I'm being irrational, running his hand through his hair. "First, I'm calling in extra security. You're going to need-"
"I want Roan."
Alexsey shakes his head. "I don't think you understand how this-"
Cutting him off is the best feeling I've had all night. "I don't care if you don't trust Roan. I do. I want him. He's the one who taught me how to fight and that's the only reason I'm not bleeding out in the hallway."
Ah, god. That was an image I didn't need.
Swaying for a second, I pull my arm away when he reaches out. Caroline wraps her arm around my waist and Alexsey pulls back, his expression cooling.
"I'll call Roan now. He'll be waiting there by the time I get you home."
"Thank you," I say, focusing on putting one bare foot in front of the other. I lost my heels somewhere along the way and the cold, gritty floor feels good. Grounding.