Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Anatoly realized too late that he had once again blundered as far as Maggie Boone was concerned.
He had thought to take the decision from her hands would be best for both of them, but it became clear witnessing the interaction between Martin and Maggie that his offer was being used to torment her.
He had gone from being indifferent to the lieutenant, to being rather disgruntled with the man in just a few short minutes.
Had this been an ordinary case, a crime of passion or a burglary gone wrong, Anatoly wouldn’t have pressed. He’d have allowed Maggie to do her job and just made himself available should she have need of him, but he knew something she didn’t and he was compelled to keep an eye on this woman.
Despite their rocky start, he was hoping they would come to at least be cordial allies. It became clear as they sat in the nondescript, black sedan that cracking through her armor was going to take a lot more work than he’d originally thought.
She hadn’t given him specifics about why they were sitting here or said more than a few grunted commands since returning with a fresh shirt.
This time, he didn’t allow himself to glance down at her voluminous chest, though the mortal side of him had certainly been tempted by the pretty pink bra.
His traitorous mind wondered if she was still wearing it or if it had been changed as well.
The second the thought came to him, he blushed, ashamed of himself.
He didn’t have a lot of experience with women and in fact had never taken any to his bed, even before he was ordained.
There had always been other concerns weighing on him, and by the time he found peace within himself, he had been called to the priesthood.
Even though he was now technically dead and his vows nullified, he clung to them out of habit and respect.
Attraction to anyone was a new emotion and while it wasn’t wholly unpleasant, he found its timing to be not only inappropriate, but inconvenient as well.
Being in such close proximity to Detective Boone made him suddenly uncomfortable.
He could smell the scent of her coconut shampoo and wanted to blame it for his errant thoughts, but he knew better than that.
This was merely a temptation to be overcome, and when he put it in that perspective, some of his discomfort faded.
Anatoly always strove to be a good man. Even as a vampire, he wanted to maintain his kindness and sense of duty and honor.
It was too easy to stray from the path of Christ and so he remained ever devout even in death.
Or perhaps in spite of it. All he knew for certain was that he didn’t want to fall any further from grace and become as foul a man as the likes of Lieutenant Martin.
His skin still crawled at the mere thought and he couldn’t help but wonder how it must make Maggie feel.
He risked a glance over at her and found her watching the bar entrance in front of them with keen vigilance.
She’d barely moved except to tap out a message or two on her mobile phone and he recognized a part of himself in her; she too was dedicated to a path.
“I do not mean to pry, but does Lieutenant Martin always treat you that way?” The question was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.
She gave a one-shoulder shrug at first and he thought that would be the end of it, but then she whispered, almost to herself, “I deserve it.”
Anatoly turned in his seat to stare at her, surprised by the admission.
Even though he had just met her, he couldn’t imagine what she might possibly have done to warrant being hassled at work.
“I am priest, da? I know little bit about sin and penance, Detective. I can say whatever you have done, it is poor justification for harassment.”
Now he had her attention. Her head whipped around and her rich, dark eyes glowed with emotion. She opened her mouth, snapped it shut again, and then returned to glaring out the front window.
“Are you hungry?” she asked a few seconds later without looking at him.
“Nyet,” he replied, shaking his head no. It was a strange shift in the conversation, but he recognized it as Maggie wanting to change the topic and so he didn’t press the matter any further. “I am not big eater.”
Silence hung between them again, stale in the air. Anatoly searched for another way to break the stuffy quiet and was surprised when Maggie beat him to it.
“It’s closing time in ten minutes,” she said, indicating the clock. They had been here for hours already. “If our guy was gonna show up he’d have been here already. There’s a late night diner nearby and I’m starving. What do you say I buy you a coffee?”
Normally he would decline, but given the situation he was willing to tag along. Though he’d refuse the coffee entirely given the chance. “I will follow your lead, Detective Boone.”
She smiled faintly at him, the first time he had seen such an open gesture from her, and a strange twinge tingled through his chest.
“You may regret that later,” she told him wryly. Then she turned away again to start the vehicle, and Anatoly was left to ponder the woman next to him.
As they pulled away from the curb, he watched her from the corner of his eye.
She was still alert, her wariness having returned once the car had rumbled to life.
It made her a good driver, but he couldn’t help thinking that it must have been exhausting for her to be so vigilant all the time.
Was this part of the job or part of her nature?
“What’s on your mind, Father?” Her voice startled him. Maggie hadn’t taken her eyes off the road and yet she was still aware of his attention. Exhausting.
He started to ask why she was so tense, but the next thing he knew the world was spinning, flipping over and over as the deafening crunch of metal and shattering of glass drowned out all other sound. It happened so fast he barely registered that they were no longer having a conversation.
The scent of blood drew his blurry gaze to the driver’s seat where Maggie was hanging upside down from the seat belt.
She was unconscious and bleeding from a gash over her eye where her head had connected with something during the crash.
The airbag had deployed successfully, protecting her from the dash and steering wheel, but she had still ended up injured.
Anatoly reached for her, fear and pain pounding through his veins, and gripped her shoulder. “Maggie?” he rasped. His throat felt like sand paper. He tried to rouse her with a firm shake, but all she did was groan.
“Pizdets…” Anatoly swore.