Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Despite the situation, the way Svetlana eyed Idris had his dick stirring. The scent of her clouded the senses, made his mouth water, had him about to reach—
“We have a car!” Yuri crowed as he returned from the yard. “I found a Lada Niva hiding in the garage.”
“Excellent. Let’s get out of here,” Svetlana exclaimed, ready to bolt out the door.
“Hold on a second. You can’t leave looking like that,” her brother stated, eyeing her with a grimace. “You’re a mess.”
A valid point. Not only did she stink of bear, but blood stained her clothing.
Svetlana glanced at herself and sighed. “You might have a point. Give me a few minutes to sluice off in the shower.”
“And ditch the clothes. I saw a lovely pink and green flamingo shirt in Boris’ closet that would look amah-zing on you,” Yuri teased.
Svetlana flashed her brother the middle finger as she stalked off to bathe.
Yuri chuckled. “She hates wearing anything with color.”
“Speaking of color, what’s this car look like?”
“Cherry red, mint condition. Judging by the low mileage, Boris didn’t use it much.”
“It runs?” Idris asked.
“Started easily enough. Tires looked good, and it has a quarter tank of gas.”
“I assume it’s plated?” The car Idris had bought cash—and now lost—came plated, and he’d never bothered changing them into his name because of the paperwork involved. Seeing as how the previous owner had died, Idris took the chance no one would run them and notice.
Yuri bobbed his head. “It’s legal to drive. I even found an insurance slip in the glove box.”
“Which we won’t need because if we get in an accident, that will be the least of our problems,” Idris pointed out. “We can’t afford to be noticed. Once the authorities realize Boris is dead and discover his garage empty, they’ll be looking for the car.”
“Meaning we’ll have to ditch it, leaving us without transport.” Yuri’s lips turned down.
“Not what I’m saying at all. I think, with a little effort, we can make it work. Change out the plates. Maybe scuff the paint to change its appearance and make it less flashy.”
Yuri snapped his fingers. “I saw spray paint cans and a bottle of brake fluid in the garage.”
“Graffiti won’t make it blend in.”
“Nothing like that.” Yuri shook his head. “I’m going to make it look older. Brake fluid is toxic to paint jobs. I’ll pour some on it, which will peel and expose the metal in spots. Then I’ll use the gray spray can to make it seem as if we’ve been patching it.”
“Giving it the appearance of a fix-me-upper.” Idris rubbed his chin. “That’s actually a great idea.”
“I know.” Yuri winked. “I’ll go take care of it while Svetlana makes herself pretty.”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
“No.” Yuri halted abruptly before exiting. “I want you inside with her, just in case.”
In case they were found and she needed protecting. It actually warmed him to know Yuri trusted him with his sister. And to think he’d been having dirty thoughts.
Bad bear.
Very bad bear, who got an instant hard-on when she walked into the room, hair wet, skin still dewy, the wild patterned shirt—not the pink one, but a more sedate blue and green swirling mess—clung to her figure and went down mid-thigh.
She’d cinched the waist with a black tie, making it into a dress.
“Where’s Yuri?”
He jerked his thumb in the direction of the yard. “Camouflaging our ride.”
“Good idea.”
Seeing the bruises already turning yellow and green, he frowned. “How’s the face?”
“Sore, but not as bad as expected.”
“We’re going to have to keep you out of sight because a beaten woman will attract attention.”
Her grimace made her lips puff out. “Last thing I need, given my face is plastered on the news channels. At least the swelling and color will make me harder to recognize.”
“Let me see if I can find a hat.”
“Find two, because you also might want to keep your face kind of covered,” she reminded as he stalked for a closet.
He found two hats, neither ballcaps. One was a knit beanie, which Svetlana snatched and jammed on her head. The other was covered in fur and had ear flaps.
“I’ll look ridiculous,” he muttered, turning it over in his hands.
“Actually, the ushanka will help you fit in. Make you look Russian,” she stated with a wide grin.
“It’s not winter.”
“Doesn’t matter. You won’t look out of place, especially if you’re wearing the matching coat.”
“Coat?”
She slipped past him and yanked on a fur jacket, pulling it from the hangar and holding it out to Idris.
His mouth rounded. “You can’t be serious.”
“Very. You’re lucky. This shade of sable fur indicates it’s from the Siberian region, making it very expensive.”
“Then you wear it.”
“It’s much too large,” she scoffed. She reached into the closet and pulled out a knitted sweater with buttons up the front. “This is more appropriate for a woman.” It hung loosely on her, but with the sleeves rolled to her wrists, the baggy fit gave the appearance of a cardigan. “Now you.”
Idris squeezed into the coat, barely managing to get it over his arms and shoulders. He definitely couldn’t button it.
“You look perfect,” she declared.
Not according to Yuri, who walked in a short while later and immediately crowed with laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You look more bear now than when you shift,” Yuri snickered.
“Oh, be quiet,” Svetlana chided. “I think he looks dashing.”
Dashing?
She smiled at him, and suddenly, he didn’t care if wearing dead fur felt wrong.
“Ready to go?” Yuri asked.
Idris glanced around. “Shouldn’t we wipe the place down for prints?”
“That will take too long, and besides, prints won’t do them much good since neither Yuri or I are in their system,” Svetlana noted.
“No, but they could match them to the room at the hotel,” he pointed out.
“And?” she sassed. “What’s another murder pinned on me? If you’re that worried, we could set the place on fire, though.”
A plan that eased Idris somewhat. They found a rag and stuffed it in a half-full bottle of vodka.
They lit it and set it on the stack of newspapers by the living room chair, then headed to the backyard.
The inside of the garage stank, but Yuri had done good.
The car appeared as if it had been to hell and back, the paint chipping in spots, dull in others, and the splotches of gray made it seem barely road-worthy.
“You swapped the plates?” Idris asked.
“With another car of the same type up the street. Wasn’t red, but it should pass basic scrutiny.”
Yuri took the driver seat, and as they exited the garage, Idris and Svetlana slouched low in the backseat, faces ducked to avoid being seen by passersby.
“Where are we going?” Svetlana asked before Idris could.
“First stop, a store. We’re going to need proper-fitting clothes and toiletries.”
“Don’t forget bleach and makeup,” a reminder she repeated when Yuri left them to head into a shop.
With the car tucked against a wall on the passenger side, Idris sat sideways, his back against the window, blocking anyone looking in. It left him facing Svetlana. A woman in danger. Someone he felt compelled to help.
She cocked her head. “You seem pensive.”
“Because I’m trying to think of a way to get you and Yuri to safety.”
“Weren’t you the one who claimed safety wouldn’t be had until this doctor was dead?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I should be dragging you into this fight.”
“You’re not forcing me to do anything. And I haven’t decided yet if I’m getting involved or not.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why? You need the help. You can’t do this alone.”
“This isn’t your fight, though.”
“They came after my brother,” her growled reminder. “Besides, what other option do I have? Because of this doctor, I am wanted for murder by the KGB. We both know my chances of getting out of Russia are slim to none, which means, me helping you is the best shot Yuri has at not being captured.”
“You’d do anything for your brother.”
“I protect those I love.”
He couldn’t help a sad smile. “Must be nice to have someone in your corner.”
“You don’t have family?”
At her query, Idris shook his head. “Older parents, no siblings or extended family. When my parents immigrated to Canada, they left their old life behind.”
“What about a wife or girlfriend?”
He snorted. “Didn’t have the time. I’d only just returned from a deployment when the general nabbed me for his experiment. Since my escape, I’ve been busy trying to not get busted.”
“I am single too,” she admitted. “Although my reason is more because I don’t trust anyone.”
“Because of Yuri.”
She gave a nod.
“It’s a hard secret to keep. In my case, almost impossible, given how easily the bear emerges.” Such an embarrassing weakness.
“You need more practice.”
He snorted. “This is me with practice. Used to be a lot worse. I once microwaved my soup thirty seconds too long, burnt my tongue, shifted, burnt myself again when I spilled it on myself, shifted back. Thank God I was in my apartment and not a restaurant.”
Svetlana smiled. “Much better to eat it from the can without heating.”
“Ugh. I might be a bear, but I’m not a savage.”
“Savage?” she squeaked.
They devolved into inane teasing and were still laughing when Yuri returned laden with bags.
They set off once more, Yuri driving the speed limit, obeying every traffic stop.
Idris wondered if the man knew where he was going when he pulled into a parking lot of cracked pavement flanking a three-story, rundown building.
A sign high up on a metal pole had flashing neon letters he couldn’t read.
“Wait here while I get us a room,” Yuri stated, leaving them for a few minutes.
He returned with a set of keys and parked the car around back out of sight of the street.
They entered via a door that gave them a choice of stairs or an elevator.
Given the visible state of disrepair of the premises, without even discussing it, they began trekking to the second floor.
As they passed a door, faint moans could be heard, and Svetlana made a moue of distaste. “Could you have found us a worse place?”
Yuri glanced over his shoulder. “Nice places want credit cards. This one might rent by the hour, but they take cash and, even better, don’t care who stays in their rooms.”
The room in question was beyond basic, but surprisingly clean. It held two beds covered in mustard-yellow quilts. A television that likely weighed as much as Svetlana sat on a nicked wooden dresser. The floor was scuffed peel-and-stick tile. Probably easier to hose off.
Yuri dumped all but one of the bags holding his purchases onto the bed, the clothing that tumbled free all made of dark material. He handed the remaining bag to Svetlana. “Your bleach and other girly stuff.”
She sighed. “My hair is going to be like straw. Maybe I should shave it instead.”
“No!” It wasn’t just Yuri that yelled.
Svetlana arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware either of you had a say.”
“You’ll look like a mean lesbian if you do,” Yuri argued.
“What’s wrong with being a mean lesbian?” she countered.
“Nothing. Love lesbians, but in this case, being a pretty, flirty blonde might be of more use,” her brother pointed out.
“I am not whoring myself out of trouble,” Svetlana snapped.
“You’d better not. My sister is as pure as the newly fallen snow,” Yuri sang, which made her snort. “But seriously. If a man hesitates because you’re pretty, that would be your chance to turn a situation around.”
“Agreed,” Idris stated, even as his reason was more selfish. He liked her long hair.
“Fine. This will take a while. If you need to use the bathroom, say so now or piss outside.”
When neither man moved, she stalked into the bathroom with the shopping bag and slammed the door.
Idris glanced at Yuri. “She really doesn’t want to go blonde.”
“The one and only time she dyed her hair, she didn’t like how people treated her differently. Men got a little too bold, the woman much cattier.”
“Why? I mean, she’s already gorgeous as a brunette. Why the difference?”
Yuri shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not as if Russia lacks for blondes. Anyhow, I’m going to pop out while she’s sucking up the fumes. Need anything?”
“Where are you going?”
“To a café with internet to gather some information about the reward, who to contact, where.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“Me?” Yuri scoffed as he stripped his stupidly loud Boris shirt for a sleek black turtleneck sweater.
“Your sister will be pissed if you do something stupid.”
“Which is why I am counting on you to keep her distracted, but”—Yuri turned to give him a hard stare—“don’t think because I’m gone that you can be less than a gentleman with her.”
Idris raised his hands. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“You’d better because, if not, we will see who is mightier, the Russian or Canadian bear.”