Chapter 33 Tallus
Tallus
Tallus
I didn’t know a thing about boats or boat storage or marinas, but when I arrived at the address Diem had given me, I was confronted with one of the biggest steel-barn-looking buildings I’d ever seen in my life. The massive garage-style door on the front was bigger than a typical house.
The door was rolled up, displaying endless rows of boats all tightly shrink-wrapped in plastic-looking covers within. The boats were shelved on either side of the room on gigantic metal racks that climbed to the ceiling. It was like a parking garage for boats.
My brain stuttered. A million questions I’d never considered in my twenty-nine years of life surfaced at once.
Whatever I’d envisioned when it came to Lukyan making a quick escape via his boat wasn’t happening.
I had severely underestimated what the process of launching a boat entailed.
We lived in southern Ontario. Lake Ontario may not fully freeze in the winter due to its depth and size, but the shoreline and bays did.
It meant boat owners needed to store their expensive toys during the colder months.
I assumed not doing so would compromise the boat’s integrity.
It meant removing the boat from the water and winterizing it.
Dry storage. It made sense now.
Until this moment, I didn’t know what winterizing entailed.
I still didn’t. Not really, but it was clear in an instant that taking a boat out of dry storage and getting it into the water was not something that happened in five minutes, nor did it seem that mid-March was when it typically occurred—if the sheer number of boats in slots told me anything.
It made sense. We often experienced snow and sub-zero temperatures in March.
Hell, April was a crapshoot when it came to the weather.
The enormous metal rack—for lack of a better word—of boats was mostly full. Inside the oversized storage shed, a guy operated a crane-like machine while two others in hard hats gathered around one of the shrink-wrapped boats, directing him.
Was it Lukyan’s?
I checked the time. Shortly past twelve. If it was Lukyan’s boat, then where was the man himself? I would have expected him to oversee the process.
I pulled the Jetta around, maneuvering the vast gravel lot between the massive storage shed and the water.
A line of parked cars occupied a spot near a small building that I suspected was some sort of marina administration.
I slotted into an available place between a Focus and a Tundra as my phone rang.
“Christ, D,” I muttered, scrambling for the device in the cupholder.
It wasn’t Diem. My cousin’s name flashed on the screen.
“This is a bad time,” I said, connecting the call.
“Wrong. It’s the most wonderful time. Matias Alejandro Ruiz arrived twenty minutes ago. Nine pounds and six ounces. Happy, healthy, and huge. Tia did amazing. The girls are over the moon.”
It took a minute for my brain to catch up. A baby. My cousin’s baby. It was Monday.
“Oh my god. Is it Monday?”
“Sunday. She went on her own. Labor started last night.”
“In my defense, things have been…” I scanned the marina. “Nuts lately.”
My cousin chuckled. “They always are with you. I don’t want to know. Today, I don’t care.”
“Congratulations. I really can’t talk. I’m in the middle of something, but we’ll pop in as soon as we can.”
“Don’t rush to the hospital. The family is here, and I know that’s probably uncomfortable for you.”
The thought made me shiver. “Let me know when Tia’s discharged. We’ll swing by the house.”
I rushed to end the call, feeling bad that I didn’t have time to share my cousin’s elation.
We hung up, and I got out and glanced at the row of vehicles. None of Lukyan’s notable cars were there. He’d probably ditched the Bentley since the windshield was smashed. It would have drawn unwanted attention. Was he not here? Had Aaron’s call sent him fleeing? Did I miss him?
“Shit.”
It was cold by the lake. A bitter wind cut across the water and nipped at my unprotected ears.
I’d raced out of the house without a coat, too hell-bent on confronting Aaron in my snazzy outfit and bending him to my will.
I regretted that decision as my thin shirt fluttered and goose bumps broke out all over my body.
My attention caught on a line of empty boat slips in the distance. A man in a black wool coat paced the dock with a phone pressed to his ear.
I couldn’t tell for sure from where I stood, but I thought it was Lukyan. The agitation fit. The pictures I’d seen online matched the starchily dressed guy who paced a strip, conversing with hand gestures that suggested anger or irritation.
He hadn’t noticed me, and considering Diem was the one who encountered him at the storage unit, it was possible he wouldn’t recognize me as a threat. At least not right away. Aaron might have described me, but descriptions got lost in translation… or so I hoped.
I contemplated what to do. Approaching could be disastrous.
If the millionaire suspected danger, he might run or get violent.
Cornered animals tended to strike, no matter the consequences.
It was a survival instinct. Self-preservation.
They wouldn’t go down without a fight. Unfortunately, I was not exactly a threatening predator.
Having knowledge of his crime would not save my ass in a confrontation. If anything, it put me in danger.
Besides, it wasn’t like Lukyan was taking off any time soon.
I glanced behind me to confirm the boat was still nestled in its slot.
The choreography required to remove it was no simple affair.
If Diem could secure those files, I would have leverage.
We could get the police involved. They didn’t have to know how we got them.
So long as I kept tabs on Lukyan and didn’t let him slip away, we could do this properly.
“See, D? I’m not reckless.” The wind blew, and I shivered, hugging myself. “I’m fucking freezing, but not reckless.”
In fact, I was so proud of my plan that I removed my phone to text my overconcerned boyfriend, but before I could properly word a message, a tickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck—and it wasn’t the icy fingers of a new breeze licking my spine.
I darted my attention to the dock and caught Lukyan staring.
At me. He still had the phone pressed to his ear, but his mindless pacing had stopped.
His frantic energy had simmered. The open storage building sat behind me, but that wasn’t where his attention had landed.
No. It was definitely on me. Any hope of remaining a stranger on the periphery vanished. Any hope of a peaceful encounter died.
I froze, locked in a silent standoff, unsure what he would do.
A steady beep, beep, beep sounded behind me, a noise associated with a work vehicle reversing. The crane. The boat. It was coming down.
I didn’t look. I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I breathed.
Lukyan lowered the hand holding the phone and tucked the device into the pocket of his stylish coat.
Alert, I clocked the distance between us. A good seventy or eighty yards—a gravel lot, a lengthy wooden dock, and a knee-high stone barricade between the two.
Lukyan broke eye contact and surveyed his surroundings. Noon on a weekend meant the marina was unoccupied. Apart from the men removing the boat from storage, we were the only people around. The guys inside the building were too busy to notice trouble brewing. Too busy to see Lukyan make a decision.
He took off at a sprint.
“You motherfucker.”
I pushed off, intent on launching into a run, and immediately face-planted in the gravel when my loafers slipped on the loose stones because, of course, he was going to make me run. Of course, I wasn’t appropriately attired for a fucking chase.
Of course, of course, of course.
I could hear Diem inside my head, lecturing me about footwear and cardio.
The whole thing would have been funny if I hadn’t taken the skin off my palms and torn a hole in my five-hundred-dollar trousers, but I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself.
I would wallow in self-pity with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and reruns of The Bachelor later while recounting this tale to Memphis because my best friend would understand and commiserate.
I peeled myself off the ground and continued running—carefully—in the direction Lukyan had fled.
The guy was as inappropriately dressed as me but clearly spent time honing his athletic skills. By the time I vaulted the stone barrier and hit the dock, he was gone. I aimed in the direction he’d taken, hoping I could catch up.
A short distance away, beyond the marina boundary, a network of buildings lined the boardwalk. Marine shops of every variety, all closed for the season. More gravel parking lots. All empty.
I checked between each building as I passed, figuring Lukyan would have ducked out of sight as soon as he was able, aiming for the main road. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I caught up, not that it seemed likely.
My poorly formed plan was no clearer now than it had been in the car. I was starting to understand what Diem meant when he constantly said I raced into things hotheaded and without thinking. He would use this against me. It would be one more grievance to keep me pinned behind a desk.
God, I wish I was behind a desk right now.
It turned out that an elaborate plan wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing could have prepared me for the fist that connected with my face when I rounded a corner to check the next alley between buildings.
Lukyan hadn’t run far. He hadn’t fled. The bastard hid out of sight until I showed my face, then acted.
I’d never been punched in my life. For a kid who grew up in a conservative house with a homophobic father and a string of bullying cousins, who dodged harassment like it was his full-time job all through high school, who worked in the police department where toxic masculinity still reigned despite the changing times, it was a wonder that I’d never once experienced a full-throttle punch to the face.
Being shot in the chest hurt, but this was a whole different level of pain I wasn’t prepared for.
Lukyan’s fist stopped me dead in my tracks.
I rebounded like I’d gone nose-first into a brick wall.
A nauseating crunch. An explosion of white light.
The world shattered. I staggered a few times before my legs buckled and I collapsed to the ground, a coppery wetness coating my lips. My vision dimmed, then darkened.
I wasn’t cold anymore.
I wasn’t anything.
The last thought that ran through my mind before I passed out was, Diem is going to be pissed I broke my glasses again.