Chapter 21
CLARA
The explosive sound of gunshots ricochets. I find myself crouched and covering my head, curled up in a tight ball under Dmitri’s heavy body. Car tires squeal and an engine revs, growing louder before it screeches off into the distance. The smell of gunpowder mixes with car exhaust in the street.
And then, deafening silence.
I can't process any of it, even as Dmitri shouts something at me, a look of terror on his face as he shakes me. But all I can hear is the frantic beat of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears. All I can see is the window rolling down and the gun coming out.
Until I see the growing red stain on Emily’s sweater.
I scream something unintelligible, a sound of grief, terror, and anger, a primal, protective instinct rising from deep inside that turns my scream into a roar.
I'm at my best friend's side before Dmitri can stop me.
“Emily?” I gasp.
She's as white as a sheet, her eyes round with shock.
“I think—” she doesn't finish her sentence. She looks at her shoulder and the red stain, then begins to shake.
“Emily!” It comes out as a wail, and I reach for her. But before I can touch her, Pavel is there, pulling down the shoulder of her sweater and inspecting the wound with a cool calm I can only dream of in this moment.
He reaches down and rips off a strip of his T-shirt, putting it on the wound before placing his big hand over it to apply pressure. “She's fine. It's just a graze. It didn't actually go in.”
“We have to get them off the street.” We all look at Dmitri, and from the corner of my eye, I see Emily recoil. The monster is back, the one I saw in my office earlier, the one with inhuman eyes that radiate danger, fury, and death.
But he's also the only one who can protect us right now.
The wail of sirens grows closer by the second. A detective’s car wheels up to the curb, hopping it in its haste to stop. Dean jumps out, followed by Detective Miller. Both have bulletproof vests on, their guns drawn.
How? How the hell did they get here so fast? I don't miss the look Dmitri and Pavel exchange, the same understanding in their eyes that is just dawning on me.
“Get your hands off them!” Dean roars as they rush us. More cop cars swarm onto the street, suddenly bright with flashing lights, the sounds of shouting, car doors opening and slamming, and sirens in the distance.
Dean edges closer, his angry scowl locked on Dmitri. “I said, get your motherfucking hands off, Smirnov!”
Dmitri doesn't move, and dangerous currents run between the two men. This is exactly what Dean wants—to force a situation he can respond to with deadly force. A way to corner Dmitri that he can't get out of.
“Dean,” I snap. “Stop it— now!” I jerk myself from his grasp when he tries to pull me back.
Dean ignores me, his focus strictly on Dmitri.
“Dean.” I take another step toward him, my hands raised so all the officers can clearly see that I’m unarmed, see what’s really happening. “Stop it. They just protected us. Someone just shot at us. They aren't involved.”
“Of course they're involved,” Dean snarls. “We saw the car, saw the gun. Smirnov was clearly the target. He's putting you in danger, Clara.”
Dean wants me to see him as my white knight, but my attention is on the other part of his declaration.
“You saw what was going on? How? How could you have seen it?” The sidewalk is crawling with officers now, but my attention remains focused on Dean, on the way his expression changes from fierce to indignant. He knows he said too much.
“How did you see what happened, Dean?” Everyone already knows the answer, but I want him to confess out loud.
“Because we were watching your apartment.” He says it in a belligerent manner, and he hasn't lowered his gun. I step in front of Dmitri despite the growl of warning I hear behind me.
“You were watching my apartment?”
“Yeah. We knew if we waited long enough, we’d get something on Smirnov. And we were right. You're not just his lawyer, are you, Clara? You’re his fucking whore, too.”
Pavel snaps something in Russian, and I back myself firmly into Dmitri. I can feel the rage coming from him like heat.
“You can't talk your way out of this one, can you, Clara?” Dean says with a sneer.
“I don't have to. You can watch my apartment all you want, but I know you don't have anything, or you would have arrested Dmitri already.
The only thing you've seen is Dmitri coming and going, because nothing else has happened, except just now, when someone shot at us and you didn't stop them.” My anger approaches Dmitri's level at the knowledge that my ex is so intent on getting me back under his control, back where he can tell me how stupid and worthless I am and continue to grind me down under his thumb, that he's willing to do anything.
“Why aren't you going after them, Dean? Why aren't you going after that car that shot at us? Why are you here with people who are doing nothing?” I glare at him and then Detective Miller, waiting for an answer that I know won't come, because they don't have a good one.
They should be going after the other car, instead of swarming us like we're the villains.
Neither Dmitri nor Pavel has their guns out.
And there are multiple witnesses to the fact that they weren't the ones shooting.
Detective Miller is the first one to lower his weapon, stashing it away in his holster.
Dean lowers his, too, then reaches out and grabs my arm in a vise-like grip.
“Do you see now how dangerous he is to be around?
Maybe he's not doing anything in this moment, but those bullets were meant for him, and you almost got in the way.
Do you know how his wife died? You're going to end up the same way.”
There’s movement behind me, and Miller's gun is back up in position. But I don't wait for Dmitri to react for me. I dig my nails into Dean's wrist until he lets go with a hiss, then slap him hard across the cheek.
Pain, sharp and stinging, radiates through my palm and up my arm as I step away from Dean and back toward Dmitri. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again. You stay the fuck away from me. I don't want anything to do with you.”
“I should arrest you for assaulting a police officer,” Dean snarls.
“Self-defense, asshole. You put your hands on me first in front of multiple witnesses. I could sue you and get your badge taken away for that.”
Dean's shoulders rise and fall in a pattern I recognize as him nearing the limits of his control.
The only thing keeping him from coming after me is the presence of all the officers, including his partner, who I have a feeling won't back him up in this.
I also have a feeling they won't be partners for much longer.
More police cars barrel into the street, followed by an ambulance. I look behind me, exchanging a look with Pavel before I take Emily's hand. “My friend is hurt. I'm taking her to the ambulance.”
I stare Dean down, daring him to make another move toward me, to arrest me for assaulting an officer.
The EMTs are seeing to Emily when another black unmarked car squeals to a halt. The door opens, and a tall, broad man with dark hair springs out.
“Michael!” Em cries, flinging her good arm out.
“Em, are you okay? Is she okay?” The man asks the EMTs and then turns to me. “Is she okay?”
“She’s going to be fine,” one of the EMTs assure him. “It’s just a graze. The bullet missed her, and I don’t see any shrapnel.”
He turns to me again, panic in his dark eyes. “What happened? I heard about the shooting on the radio and realized it was at your address. Last I heard, you were coming over tonight to stay.”
“I don’t—” I try to respond but have no idea what to say. “Someone drove up and started shooting. I really didn’t see anything; it happened so fast. I tried to get her out of the way.”
Emily and I exchange a look of ride or die, and I know she’s got my back, as always.
From the corner of my eye, I see Dmitri approach, watching Mike with every step, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth tight with caution.
“Okay, we’re taking her to Morningside,” one of the EMTs announce.
“I’m going with her.” I step into the ambulance, ignoring the way Dmitri and Mike both move toward me, but it’s Emily who stops me, her hand out.
“No, Clara, stop. I’m okay. It’s just a scratch, like they said.” She glances at Dmitri. “I need you to go with him. Right now. You need to disappear.”
“Go where? She needs to stay and talk to the police,” Mike says. “Em, what’s going on?”
“Later,” she tells her fiancé firmly, then wraps her good arm around me and hugs me before beckoning Dmitri over. He steps forward with unusual hesitancy, his gaze flicking to me before returning to Emily.
“Clara is not the mole.” Em drops her voice to a frantic whisper that only those of us closest to her can hear. “She would never betray anyone like that. Please, you have to believe her. Mike’s unit handles white-collar stuff, not organized crime.”
Dmitri's mouth thins, his jaw clenching, and I know what he’s thinking: Mike isn’t allowed to disclose details.
Even if he is working the case, he’s still a federal agent.
Disclosure to anyone, even his own fiancée, and especially to company legal representation, is a fireable offense.
He would have to lie, no matter who is involved.
Emily knows it, too, but she still looks Dmitri in the eye, brave in the face of danger. “Clara isn’t the one.”
“We need to go.” The EMT breaks in, but I still hesitate.
“See? Go,” Emily says, nodding to the ambulance door.
“You promise you’ll call me?”
“I promise. Go. Please.” I take a step back and exit the ambulance.
Dmitri places his hand on the small of my back and begins guiding me away as Mike jumps into the back before pausing and thrusting his hand out toward Dmitri.
“Thanks for protecting them. Emily means the world to me, and Clara means the world to Emily.”
Dmitri hesitates, a multitude of questions and emotions flashing across his face before he meets Mike’s handshake, and his eyes.
Mike closes the doors and the ambulance takes off, siren wailing.
“Let’s go,” Dmitri says as I see, out of the corner of my eye, Dean stalking up to us.
“She’ll be taken care of,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous, aimed at Dean and the surrounding officers. “We are leaving.”
Dean yells something about obstruction of justice, but Dmitri keeps walking me toward the black sedan they arrived in. He glances back at my ex only once, with a look of cold calculation in his eyes.
Dean glares at us as Pavel gets into the driver’s seat, and Dmitri slides in next to me in the back. We pull away from the chaos, back into the darkness of the city, and whatever waits for me at Dmitri’s penthouse.