Becoming Rain

by K. A. Tucker

  It makes me uncomfortable. Like I’ve done something wrong and am about to get called on it. “What?”

  “A G-Class Benz and a Lexus LX were hijacked last night.”

  “Hijacked?”

  “Yeah. One of the drivers has a few scrapes. The other one’s in the hospital for gunshot wounds. Both SUVs are black.”

  Black SUVs. Exactly what Aref’s African buyer wants.

  “Rix’s guy called him this morning, asking him to help out with a couple of rush orders that just came down the pipes. They need the SUVs within the next forty-eight hours. We’re thinking that someone’s pushing up the date for a shipment and bringing in guys from around the street to fill the order fast. 24’s usual crew isn’t normally sloppy, but someone is definitely still running the show. Too coincidental to be anything else.”

  “It’s not Luke. I mean 12. He’s too preoccupied. His phone hasn’t even left his nightstand in the last two days.”

  “Well, it’s sure someone.”

  “Vlad.” I say it with certainty, though I can’t be 100 percent sure that it’s not Aref. “I’m betting one of those two cut Rust out of the mix and took over.”

  “Maybe. All I know is that we’re about to lose whatever edge we had on this investigation.”

  I hold my breath as I ask my next question. “Is Sinclair about to haul Luke in?” I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.

  “Not yet. He’s still hoping for a break.”

  “Was there anything coming out of the investigation on 24?”

  “Some grainy video from a business that we’re analyzing, and a ton of fingerprints on the SUV that are probably the registered owners’.” Warner peers at me through hard eyes. “Stay on him. Don’t let him out of your sight, and . . .” He heaves a sigh. “. . . do whatever you have to do to get him talking. Sinclair’s orders.”

  Suddenly Warner’s risky in-person visit and shutting off the wire makes sense. This is off the record. I don’t back down as he looms over me. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means keep doing what you’ve been doing.” His jaw clenches. “Like that night after you met 24 at the club . . .” He leans in farther, until he’s so close his spearmint-scented breath tickles my nostrils. “. . . when I watched 12 show up at your building and not leave until the next morning.”

  Warner was spying on me? “You said you—” I bite back the accusation because I have no right, after everything I’ve done. Swallowing against the bubble of hysteria rising, all I dare ask is, “Does Sinclair know?”

  A wicked smirk answers me. “Sinclair doesn’t give a shit as long as he gets what he wants and our hands stay clean in the courts. And you’ve worked hard to make sure everything on the wire keeps us looking good, haven’t you?” His eyes drift to my mouth. “You even had me fooled for a while there.”

  “Warner, I . . .” I can’t seem to find the right words. There are no right words for this kind of betrayal.

  “Just keep the case conversations on the wire and everything else . . . off.” His iciness melts slightly. “And promise me you won’t blow your cover.”

  I swallow. “I promise.”

  He looks about ready to say something else but then presses his lips firmly shut. Cracking the door open, he checks the hall, and then disappears.

  Leaving me shaking with guilt.

  Chapter 51

  ■ ■ ■

  LUKE

  I hang up as I pull into the lot at the garage. “Rust’s partners at RTM, offering their condolences.”

  “That’s . . . nice of them?” Rain offers hesitantly.

  “Yeah . . . I give them two weeks before they start talking about buying me out of Rust’s share.”

  “Is RTM . . .” she pauses, “part of that business you mentioned you had with Aref and Vlad?”

  “No. This is completely separate. A hundred percent legit. Just like this garage. Rust kept that other stuff away from here.”

  “And it’s all yours now?”

  “Yeah. Or it will be, once it goes through probate. He already signed the garage over a few weeks ago.” All kinds of thoughts have been crawling into my head these past few days. Namely, did he have an idea that this might happen? And if he did, why the hell didn’t he do more to protect himself? Why didn’t he tell me to fuck off when I pushed him on the Aref deal?

  “So, what are you going to do?” Her eyes land on the garage sign hanging above us.

  “I don’t know. There’s definitely more than enough here to keep me busy and comfortable.” I take her hand. She’s been more quiet than usual since leaving the funeral home. This must be a lot for her to deal with. It’s one helluva way to meet my mom and sister.

  “It’ll take months to sort out all the legal stuff, so I have time to decide if I want to step into Rust’s place or—”

  “Take his place where?” Her pleading eyes rise to take me in.

  “At RMT. Doing something that’s not going to put a bullet in my head. That’s all, I promise.” I’m still upright and breathing, with no sign of Vlad, so I have to think he’s not too worried about what I could possibly say. But what kind of future is this? If Rust’s death did anything, it served as a wake-up call. Maybe Vlad is right—I am an idiot, because I got myself involved in a multi-million-dollar car theft ring with the fucking Russian mob and I didn’t see this coming.

  I don’t want to live the rest of my days worrying that I may piss someone off and end up dead. What kind of life is that? A hundred Porsches don’t make it worthwhile.

  “That, or you could just take the money and start over. Clean,” Rain suggests.

  “Yeah.” Whatever it is, it won’t be anything to do with stealing cars. “Let’s do this.” I nod toward the garage and then slide out of the car. It’s the first time I’ve been here since Rust died.

  Was murdered.

  “Luke.” Tabbs is the first to walk up to me, offering a clean hand and a rare, somber expression. “If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”

  I nod, afraid my voice will give away my grief. “Is Miller inside?”

  “Yup. He’s been pretty much holed up in there.”

  I find Miller sitting behind his desk, staring at his lap. When he finally looks up and notices us standing there, he’s on his feet instantly, coming around the desk to offer me his hand.

  “Luke, I . . .” He clears his throat. He looks even worse now than he did after his short hospital stay a few weeks ago. He may even have lost weight. His face looks gaunt. “I’m sorry about Rust. He . . .” He bows his head. “He was always good to me.”

  “For what it’s worth, he always spoke highly of you. He trusted you unequivocally.”

  “I’ll . . . uh . . . I’ll take care of things around here. Don’t worry about any of that.”

  There’s just no way I’m ready to come back here. “Thank you. I just . . .” I exhale heavily, sliding my hands into my pockets. Looking at the wall across from me, where an array of recognitions and business awards for the garage hang, including one of a smiling Rust shaking hands with the mayor of Portland after winning an area consumer award, a lump fills my throat. He was so proud of this business. He took pride in all his ventures, legal and otherwise. Everything he touched was successful. Until now.

  “It’s hard, Miller. I’m still waiting for it to really hit me. But don’t worry. You’ll always have a job here while I own this place.”

  He clears his throat again, his voice turning rough. “You can count on me.” Then he storms past us, out the door and down the hall, rubbing at his cheek as he disappears into the restroom.

  I feel Rain sidle up to my back, her arms roping around my waist to give me a hug. “Were they close?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Miller’s been running this place since it opened.” My phone’s ringing, pulling me away
from thoughts of Miller.

  It’s the police. My car is finally being released.

  I’d let them keep it if only I could have Rust back.

  Chapter 52

  ■ ■ ■

  CLARA

  “Security just let through a delivery guy with more flowers,” Luke says, dropping his house phone on the counter, taking in the floral jungle that’s sprouted in here. Bouquets from Luke’s business partners, Dmitri, other family friends.

  Nothing from Vlad or Andrei. Not a word. That both comforts and worries me.

  Luke rubs his eyes, tired from a day of running around and drug-induced sleep.

  I rub his back affectionately. “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you go and jump in the shower? It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Yeah . . .” His gaze drifts over my body, and I see a sudden spark of interest. It’s the first one I’ve seen in days, which, up until this morning, was a saving grace.

  Back when I thought that this little affair of ours was a secret.

  I can’t believe Warner knows. And Sinclair. And maybe the rest of my cover team. Here I was, thinking I’ve been careful and covert all this time.

  He reaches up to tug at the hem of my shirt. Tugging me toward the bedroom.

  Keep doing what you’re doing, Warner told me. Orders from the top. I wonder if I’m going to get burned for it at the end. Will this be the last case I ever work on? Has Sinclair written me off?

  I can’t think about that right now, though. I need to focus on keeping Luke safe.

  “Go ahead.” I nod toward his bedroom. “I’ll wait for them to bring the flowers up.”

  I listen for the sound of the running water, and then I quickly text Warner to confirm that there is in fact a real delivery truck outside.

  There’s been no indication that Vlad is looking to get rid of Luke too, and pulling my gun out to receive flowers is probably an overreaction on my part. But I get it out anyway, tucking it into the back of my pants as I wait by the door.

  The knock comes within minutes.

  I open the door to a young, brunette woman with a clipboard for me to sign. I do a quick appraisal and decide she’s simply here to deliver flowers. “Here you go,” she says, handing me an exotic arrangement of black orchids.

  I don’t have to read the card to know who these flowers are from. They have Elmira written all over them. And, because they do, I start picking through the leaves and stems, searching the entire bouquet for anything suspicious.

  “Who sent those?” Luke’s sudden voice behind me makes me jump. I spin around, hoping he was too distracted by the flowers to notice the bulge of my gun on my back.

  I hand him the card.

  “You should probably call and thank them,” I suggest, looking down at the towel wrapped around his waist. “Maybe after your shower.”

  “No point wasting time,” he mutters, grabbing his phone and punching out a number he’s memorized. “Rust always used to say that.” I step in closer, both so I can touch his bare skin and so he doesn’t step out of earshot.

  “Hey . . . I did. Thank you. They’re really nice . . . Of course, thank her for me . . . Yeah, I know . . .”

  I lean in and press my lips against Luke’s arms. And plead with my eyes. He looks down at me and sees the silent words. I know he does. You promised me to walk away, I remind him.

  He brushes the hair off my face. “Listen, with Rust gone, any deals he made—” Aref has obviously cut him off and is controlling the conversation now. I wish I could hear him. “Right . . . I couldn’t even help if I wanted to. He’s the only one who knew the business. I don’t see how this shipment for Vlad is going to go through, and yours . . . Okay . . . Thanks.” He frowns slightly as he hangs up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Luke stares at the flowers, through them, for a long moment. “Aref took it surprisingly well.”

  “Are you happy about that?”

  “Yeah. But . . .” Concern clouds Luke’s eyes. “That’s a lot of money for Aref to just walk away from.”

  Unless he’s not walking away from anything at all.

  “Aref already has a lot of money,” I offer.

  “Yeah.” Pulling me close to him, he leans down and kisses me. “I don’t want to think about any of it anymore.”

  “Good plan. I’ll meet you in there in a minute.” I seize his hands before they wander far enough to discover my gun.

  “Okay, but hurry up. I need you.” He pulls me flush with him, proving exactly how much.

  Once he’s safely out of view again, I hide my gun in my purse and unfasten my necklace, leaving it on the counter.

  Chapter 53

  ■ ■ ■

  LUKE

  The family limousine takes the winding road toward our family vault, located in one of the older sections of River View.

  “This cemetery is beautiful,” Rain murmurs from beside me, her hand tucked within mine, where it has been for the morning, her thumb rubbing soothingly against mine.

  I glance out to see the crop of Japanese maples, their trunks gnarly, twisted forms, covered in moss. “Those trees used to freak me out,” I admit, realizing just how long it’s been since I’ve been here to visit my grandpa’s grave.

  “Remember Deda used to tell us that faeries danced in those woods at night for Baba?” Ana pipes up with a sad smile, adjusting one of her big curls. She’s back to her normal, perfectly packaged self. My mother, on the other hand, hasn’t done as well, the heavy black makeup only highlighting the puffiness around her eyes. She hasn’t been back to work since Rust’s death and I doubt she has plans to go back anytime soon. I’m sure I’ll be covering her bills for a while.

  So many cars line the road near the plot site. For a guy who didn’t want a service or a wake, there are a ton of people lingering in the light drizzle for him. The guys from the garage all stand in a quiet row, waiting to help carry the casket to the gravesite. They’re hardly recognizable in their suits.

  The black Barracuda tells me that Jesse’s here. I wonder if Alex came with him. I don’t think anyone would care, one way or another, if they recognized her. Viktor’s long gone.

  Even Priscilla’s here, struggling to make her way through the grass in spikey heels, her arm linked with a guy I’ve seen at The Cellar. Plenty of other familiar faces from the club are also here. Rust was a permanent fixture there, after all.

  There are also plenty of people I don’t know, and don’t care to know. I keep my head down and hold Rain’s hand as we make our way to the giant oak tree where I’ve stood twice before, overlooking the snow-capped mountains in the far distance.

  Rust always said they had prime real estate around here.

  My arm wrapped around Rain’s body on one side and my mom’s on the other, we stand in a quiet row under black umbrellas as a solemn man in a suit reads scriptures in Russian. My mom’s addition. I didn’t fight her on it because I know Rust wouldn’t have wanted me to.

  The entire thing lasts no more than fifteen minutes. Then the sea of black umbrellas begins to disperse, and I finally bother to take in faces. I see Miller standing next to a short, round woman. On her side are three girls in simple dark dresses, I assume his daughters.

  One sits in a wheelchair, her frail legs dangling, the muscles in her face slackened.

  I realize how little I know about a guy my uncle trusted to run his business for the last decade. I’m guessing he hasn’t had it easy. Nor has his kid. And here I’ve had everything handed to me on a platter.

  But now it makes more sense why he’s been helping Rust with the “other” business.

  I’m considering walking over there and introducing myself to them when Rain’s body tenses beneath my touch. “What’s wrong?” I follow her stare to a line of hard-faced men in black suits standing on the far side. Vlad, l
ike a statue next to his father.

  Adrenaline and shock shoots through my limbs.

  “No, Luke.” Rain yanks on my arm, keeping me close, a split second before I charge over there and punch him square in his misshapen nose.

  I bow my head and hiss, “He kills Rust and then shows up at his funeral!”

  Her cool fingers touch my cheek, pulling my face to hers. Her eyes pleading. “Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “You have to,” she urges, roping her arm around my back. “The less he thinks you suspect, the safer it is for you and your family, right?” She grits her teeth. “If he comes over to offer his condolences, you take it. You hear me? You know nothing. You suspect nothing. No one knows anything. Okay?”

  “Jesus.” How the hell can I do that? I inhale deeply. If I was on edge before, now I’m hanging by a branch over a cliff.

  Chapter 54

  ■ ■ ■

  CLARA

  Sinclair was right. Like a group of sadists, the Russians swept in quietly to admire their work. While I can identify only Vlad and his father, the team of undercover agents weaving themselves into this impressive crowd have no doubt taken candid snaps and will have every last one of them identified shortly.

  Even Warner is here, in his role as Jack. Just a sympathetic brother who heard what happened and wanted to lend his support to his sister, should Luke notice. He hasn’t, now too occupied with staring at his feet and taking deep breaths. Basically doing everything he can to heed my advice, because he knows I’m right.

  “Luke.” That odd accent fills my ear as Aref appears behind us, dressed as sharply as always, clasping his hand. “Do not hesitate to call if you need anything at all. From either Elmira or me.” Like a black shadow, the tiny woman appears from behind him to stretch onto her tiptoes and plant a kiss on Luke’s cheek. “We’ll keep your family and Rust in our prayers,” she coos. And then obsidian eyes shift to meet mine. She closes in for a hug. “Luke will not forget all that you’ve done for him.”