Sergei

by Roxie Rivera

  "No," he answered quietly.

  Those feelings of humiliation washed over me. "You called me a slut in front of my mother, Kevan."

  He cringed. "I am sorry, Bianca. If I could go back—"

  "Yeah, I know."

  Holding out his hands, he said, "I didn't press charges against your—against Sergei."

  "Wow. That's so gracious of you."

  He frowned at me, the expression drawing attention to his fat lip. "He hit me and knocked me out. I could have had him arrested."

  "So why didn't you?"

  He prevaricated. "Well…"

  "You know what I think? I think you knew that you were in the wrong, and you didn't want everyone at work to know how damned nasty you were to me." When he didn't agree or disagree, I added, "I don't condone what Sergei did. I don't like that he solved that problem with his fists, but I know why he did it."

  Kevan seemed to be waiting for me to explain the why of the situation, but it wasn't any of his business. He sighed roughly. "You know he's trouble, Bianca. That man is tied up in some really bad shit. You don't need that in your life."

  "I know what I do and don’t need in my life, Kevan."

  "And you need him?"

  "Yes."

  Clicking his teeth, he shook his head and glanced at the far wall. Blowing out a noisy breath, he said, "We'll just have to agree to disagree when it comes to him."

  "Yes, I suppose we will."

  "Look, I don't like the way things are between us. We used to be good friends. You counted me on for everything. I'd like to get back to that."

  "I'm not sure we can get back to the way things were, Kevan."

  "I'd like to try." He hesitated. "Maybe I could bring dinner and we could paint that bathroom you've been talking about doing."

  "We painted it this weekend." Flashes of the steamy tryst I had shared with Sergei atop that drop cloth came to mind. Watching those rippling muscles of his as he had rolled paint up and down the walls had done crazy things to me. In between coats, we had found a few very pleasurable ways to kill time. This morning in the shower, I had still been scrubbing paint off my skin—but oh! I rather liked the do-it-yourself tricks Sergei was teaching me.

  "I see." He didn't sound happy, but that wasn't my problem. "What about your prowler? Have you had any more run-ins with him?"

  "No." Thinking of the way he had kept information from me, I asked, "Is there a reason you didn't tell me about the attack on Adam Blake?"

  His eyes widened. "You know about that? Bibi, I was just trying to shield you from the ugliness of it. There's nothing to be gained from knowing all that nonsense."

  "That's not your decision to make, Kevan. Did you know that the Houston PD has someone following me around now because they're worried those skinheads are going to come after me?"

  "What? You're sure?"

  "Yes, I'm sure. I spoke to Detective Santos about it. He couldn't believe you hadn't told me about the attack on Adam Blake."

  Kevan's eyes narrowed. "What else did he say?"

  Not wanting to get into specifics with Kevan, I shrugged. "That's it. He told me to be careful and get a dog, a security system and a gun."

  "So you went out and got a Russian mobster instead?"

  I slid both hands out in front of me. "Okay. We're done here. Goodbye, Kevan."

  "Bibi, one of these days you're going to realize what a mistake you've made. You're going to need me."

  "I doubt that, but thanks for the warning." I watched Kevan leave and stood there shaking my head at what a bizarre turn our friendship had taken. I accepted that I wasn't totally blameless here. Obviously I hadn't been careful enough and had failed to let Kevan know that I hadn't been after anything serious. That was one-hundred percent my fault. Even so, that didn't give him the right to be a total jackass about this.

  Pondering whether to cut ties with Kevan or find a way to move forward, I finished selecting dresses for my bridal appointment. Out on the floor, I wheeled the rack to the dressing area I would be using and made sure the space was prepared for my client's arrival.

  "Hey, Bianca?" Our receptionist Mindy poked her inside the dressing room I was tidying. "There's a guy at the front desk who wants to speak with you. He said he's a contractor. Something about a bid on a garage?"

  "Oh. Um—tell him I'll be right out." Surprised by the visit from a contractor, I primped the flowers in the dressing room, wiped down the mirror and hung a fresh robe for the bride. I got sidetracked on the way to the reception desk by a consultant who needed some help with a plus-sized bride who wanted a specific mermaid gown. The sample size was much too small for her, and she looked about ready to burst into tears.

  "Go pull the Arianna design from my collection, Jackie. The sample size should be a close fit." Rubbing the bride's bare arms, I smiled at her in the mirror. "The dress Jackie is bringing is one of my designs. It's a bit simpler than this gown you're wearing, but it will give you an idea of how you'll look in the mermaid silhouette."

  "But I can get this dress in the right size?"

  "Absolutely," I assured her. "If this is the dress of your dreams, Jackie will get someone over here to measure you. Once the deposit is paid, the designer gets the order, and they'll start making a dress especially for you."

  She stared at herself in the mirror, her gaze critical and one I recognized all too well. "I just want to be really pretty on my wedding day."

  "Sweetheart, you will be. I promise you. We'll make sure that your wedding dress is perfect." Rubbing her back, I said, "You're already beautiful. It's our job to accentuate that."

  Smiling, she nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

  Jackie returned with the mermaid gown from my design collection so I excused myself from the visibly calmer bride. Out in the reception area, I spotted a man in jeans, rugged boots and a blue work shirt. When he turned toward me, I managed to put a name to his face. Extending my hand, I greeted him. "Marcus, right?"

  He seemed relieved that I remembered him. "Yes, ma'am."

  "What can I do for you?"

  "I had a phone call earlier from a man named Sergei Sakharov. He wanted me to come by to take a look at your carriage house." He hesitated. "I wanted to make sure everything was on the up-and-up with that call."

  A little miffed that he had made assumptions like that, I explained, "Sergei is my boyfriend. He also owns part of a contracting business, but they work mainly in retail. You know, shopping centers, restaurants. He's taken over the remodeling projects at my home."

  "Okay." Marcus offered an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to step on your toes. I know you're a young woman living alone, and I wanted to make sure some general contractor wasn’t trying to scam you."

  "That’s not the case, I assure you."

  "Good. I'm glad. Well—I suppose I'll get back in touch with Mr. Sakharov and see when would be a good time for me to come by and adjust my bid on the project."

  "Great, and thanks for stopping by."

  After the contractor left, I couldn't shake the weirdness of that run-in. Glancing at my watch, I realized I didn't have time to call Sergei and chat with him about it. Later, I promised myself, and got ready for my bridal appointment.

  Of course, one appointment turned into three and then I had a design consultation that ran over its allotted time. Between inventory questions, following up with Gladys in our billing department and promising Maggie in alterations I would look into squeezing some more seamstresses into the budget, I barely found the time to eat the snack Sergei had packed me. The selection of bite-sized fruit chunks and the small container of mixed nuts wasn't exactly the bag of cheese puffs I had been craving, but he was right about it satisfying me much longer.

  I was walking into the house when my phone rang. Clamping it between my ear and shoulder, I answered while pushing the door shut with my foot. "Hello?"

  "How was work, sweetheart?"

  Sergei's voice made me grin and left me feeling all tingly. "It was great. You?"

/>   "Same old story," he said with a chuckle. "I kept Vivian out of trouble so I'll put a point in the win column for today."

  Knowing what a pain she could be, I figured that was about as good as it would get for him. "Are you coming home for dinner?"

  "No, I'm heading to the gym. After, I promised Nikolai I would help run an errand."

  "Oh?"

  "It's nothing like that, Bianca. It's for Kelly Connolly."

  "I see." Considering what I knew of Kelly's current predicament, I doubted I wanted to hear any more details of what this errand might entail. "Will you be late?"

  "Probably," he said, already sounding tired.

  Not wanting to burden him with Kevan's appearance at the shop and the contractor's strange visit, I kept those stories to myself. "I'll wait up for you."

  "You don't have to do that."

  "I want to, Sergei. I've missed you today."

  "I'll try to get home as soon as possible. I need to stop by my apartment to pick up some clothes."

  The mention of his apartment spurred thoughts of a topic we hadn't even come close to opening for discussion. Ever since the night he had kicked my door in to save me from my shower curtain, Sergei had basically been living here. It definitely wasn't something I had ever planned on happening, but the thought of not having him here every night, even if I didn't have this prowler issue and the Night Wolves scratching at my front door, made me really sad.

  "Maybe you should pack some more clothes and bring them here. You can have the closet in the guest room across the hall for now." With all the clothes I had packed into the master closet, there simply wasn't room for him in the bedroom we were sharing.

  Sergei's end of the line stayed quiet for a while. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes." I wasn't. In fact, my palms were getting sweaty just thinking about making this first step toward cohabitation. "It's the best solution for our current situation. Just bring whatever you need, and we'll find a place for it here."

  "All right. I have to go. I'll see you later."

  "Be safe."

  "I will, milaya moya. I love you."

  Those three simple words still hadn't lost their magic. "I love you."

  After ending the call, I made my way to the kitchen and sorted through the mail I'd grabbed from the box out front. I thought about dinner but wasn't in the mood to cook. I considered having something delivered, maybe a pizza or some Chinese.

  Glancing out the front windows, I spotted the dark car that followed me everywhere. Sergei had introduced me to Arty a few days earlier. He was a nice guy, a bit older than Sergei, and soft-spoken. Something Sergei had told me about Arty made me curious.

  With an evening to fill, I decided to be friendly and left the house. I had made it halfway down the sidewalk before Arty was out of his car and coming toward me. Looking concerned, he asked, "Is something wrong? Do you need my help?"

  "Everything is fine, but I think I do need your help."

  "Okay. What can I do for you?"

  "Sergei said you recently helped your mother and sister come over here. I wondered if you might be willing to come inside and tell me how you did it. You know, the law firm you used, the steps and all that." Sweetening the deal, I added, "I'll order something for dinner so you don't have to sit out here and eat in your car."

  He seemed surprised by the offer but nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

  "Great."

  While Arty returned to his car to grab some things, I headed back to the house. Sergei had his own exit plan in the works, but I was looking at the big picture. He was never going to be happy here until his mother and brother were safe here with him—with us. Whatever I could do to make that happen, I had to try.

  * * *

  "What are you reading?"

  Sergei glanced at the rearview mirror and found Nikolai staring at him with interest. They were parked outside Connolly Fitness, the gym Kelly's older brothers owned. Word on the street was that the loan shark John Hagen would receive half of the building if the loan on it wasn't repaid. Sergei had no doubt that Hagen would force them to sell in order to get the building and the land beneath it.

  "Property records and blueprints for Bianca's home," he answered. "There's something funny about that carriage house out back."

  "How's that?"

  "The dimensions aren't right."

  "It's an old building. The carpenters who put it together didn't have to meet codes, Sergei."

  He made a humming sound of agreement. "That's probably it."

  "You don’t sound convinced."

  "I don't know." Sergei hesitated before admitting, "It feels strange in that building."

  "Strange?"

  "Yes, strange." He wasn't about to tell the boss that he got the worst knot in his stomach when he was in the place.

  "Maybe it's the fumes from old lead pipes and paint," Nikolai suggested. "Unless you think it's something supernatural."

  He could hear the teasing tone in the boss' voice. "Nyet."

  "So then what?"

  "I don't know."

  "I think you're overly stressed. You're juggling Bianca, your duties with Vivian, this threat from nochniye volki, the prowler, the tournament—it's too much, Sergei." Stretching out his legs, Nikolai exhaled a long, slow breath. "When the tournament is finished and this mess with those white power bastards is done, I want you to take Bianca on vacation. Go to London. Go to Paris. Go visit a beach. Just—go away for a while."

  Sergei twisted in his seat for a better look at his boss. "You're serious?"

  "You've earned it." Glancing out the window, he said, "Ah. Here they come."

  Sergei leaned down to see out the window and spotted Kelly Connolly and his two brothers leaving their gym. He opened his door, climbed out of the driver's seat and walked around to the other side of the vehicle. Arms crossed, he waited for the three brothers to see him.

  Kelly strode toward him, and they sized each other up carefully. If the man made it through enough matches, they would face off in the cage, and then Sergei would have to hurt him. Probably badly. Maybe even irreparably. He hated the thought of it, but there was nothing to be done.

  Without a word, he opened the door to the middle row of seats and gestured for Kelly to get inside. He remained outside the vehicle while the boss handed over information about the man who was blackmailing Kelly's girlfriend. It was the last bit of help Kelly would get from the Russian camp on this matter. Sergei hoped he used it wisely.

  When it was done, Sergei watched Kelly rejoin his brothers before sliding behind the wheel. Nikolai asked to be dropped off at Samovar. Once the boss was off his hands, Sergei drove to his apartment to gather some clothing and other necessities. He wondered at Bianca's invitation to keep more of his things at her place. Was she feeling out the possibility of offering him a more permanent spot there? Were they ready for that step?

  Navigating the busy night streets, Sergei contemplated their relationship. It seemed they were moving outside the prescribed timetables that most couples followed. He trusted they would find their own way and left it at that.

  When he turned down the alley behind Bianca's house, he killed his lights and crept along the narrow path. Staring at the old, rotted out carriage house, he didn't even see the shadowy figure moving across Bianca's backyard at first. Easing on the brakes, Sergei put his SUV in park and watched the spot by the gazebo. Amid the shadowy darkness, he spotted the man-sized form moving closer to the house.

  Spurred into action with thoughts of protecting Bianca, Sergei opened the door and slid out of his vehicle. He jogged to the back gate, put both hands on the sturdy iron frame and vaulted over the top. The hard landing jarred his ankles, but he ignored the jolt that rattled his knees. Eating up the ground with his long strides, Sergei hurried to intercept the prowler before he could reach the back door of Bianca's house.

  He launched himself at the man, wrapping his arms around him and taking him down to the grass. "Got you!"

  The prowler fough
t back hard, twisting and kicking to escape Sergei's clenched arms. A knee to Sergei's belly made him growl, but he simply squeezed harder. The man got a hand free and slapped at Sergei's face. They rolled around in the backyard, punching and scratching and shouting.

  The back door slammed open, and Bianca rushed onto the back porch. "Sergei!"

  "Get back inside!" His broken concentration allowed the man to jam his elbow into Sergei's ribs and break free. "Shit."

  Sergei snatched at the prowler's ankle. The man slipped on the grass and went down hard. The prowler kicked wildly, and his shoe came off in Sergei's hand. The man scuttled like a bug across the grass and finally managed to get into an upright position. Sergei shoved off the ground and made chase.

  Before they reached the gate, another man appeared in the alleyway. He jumped over the gate and became illuminated by the streetlights. Sergei had never been happier to see Detective Eric Santos in his life.

  "Houston PD! Hands in the air!" Weapon trained on the prowler, Eric forced the other man to stop. "Sergei, hands up, too. Don't move until I sort this out."

  Happy to oblige, Sergei held up both hands and tried to catch his breath. The prowler looked like he might try to bolt but he finally put up his hands. Eric advanced on the prowler and quickly cuffed the man. "You armed, Sergei?"

  "No. My weapon is in my vehicle."

  "Sergei!" Bianca raced toward him. "Are you okay?"

  "I told you to go back inside." He reached for her hand and dragged her behind him, shielding her body with his, just in case.

  "I did." She embraced him from behind and kissed his back. "I called 9-1-1. They're sending two units right now." She peeked around him to look at the prowler. "Eric? What are you doing here?"

  "I decided to drive by to check on your place. It's been quiet with the Night Wolves, but I don't trust them. That's when I saw a car parked a few blocks down the street. I decided to come down the alley and spotted Sergei's SUV. I figured there was only one reason he would abandon his car down there."

  "Is he one of them?" Sergei needed to know who the prowler was and what he was doing here.