One Wrong Move

by Shannon McKenna

  “Simax,” he repeated to himself.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have any idea what simax could be. Nor do I have a stash of it hidden in my closet.”

  “I believe you,” he said. And surprisingly enough, he did. The asshole stepfather, the closet hiding place story, it rang true.

  He screeched to a stop at the red light. There was an entrance to a gas station near at hand. He yanked the car over onto it, and braked. He could not process all this information and drive at the same time.

  “Son of a bitch,” he murmured.

  “Yeah. Tell me about it.” Nina was swiping at her eyes with her knuckles. “What am I going to do with this, Aaro?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  It was the exact wrong thing to say. Her face crumpled. Shit.

  What a dickbrain. “I’ll tell you what you do.” The words popped out before his brain could put on the brakes. “We find someplace safe. We’ll listen to the recording. We call Bruno. That’s the plan.

  You like that plan?”

  She sniffed, and nodded. “OK.” She gave him a wobbly, brave little smile. “I like that plan.”

  Her smile was what did it. It was a bad idea, the worst, but she got sucked into the tractor beam of his body, or maybe it was her body that generated the beam, but before he knew it, his ass was poised between the seats, and she was fitting perfectly, right under his arm, like when he’d pulled her out of the closet. Except that she wasn’t naked this time.

  Naked was better. His body throbbed, remembering how that had been. Her amazing, fragrant softness.

  She went tense, and arched away. And what the fuck was he doing, coming on to a woman who had already said no? He retreated to his own seat, embarrassed. Started up the car.

  Her mouth was bloodless and flat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Try to understand. I only met you a little over an hour ago.”

  “During which time I killed two men, and saved your ass twice,” he felt compelled to point out, and immediately hated himself for doing so. What, like she owed him sex for that? Was he that desperate?

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “I know,” she said softly. “We’ve definitely cut through the small talk. And speaking of small talk. Where are we going?”

  Deft change of subject. The woman was slicker than she appeared. “Brighton Beach,” he said.

  She stared, astonished. “Excuse me?”

  “Did Lily tell you where I came from?” he asked.

  “She said something about your family background being, um, checkered,” she said delicately.

  He laughed. “Nice euphemism.”

  “Well, not to say anything against your family, but—”

  “Feel free. They won’t hold back when it’s their turn to weigh in.”

  “Shut up and let me finish,” she snapped. “Those guys in my house. Some of them spoke Russian. I heard them.”

  “So you say. Couldn’t vouch for it. I didn’t hear them talk.”

  “Is not all of Brighton Beach and Sheepshead Bay a hotbed of expat Russian immigrants?”

  “It is,” he affirmed.

  “So, aren’t our chances of meeting people who might have an interest in ripping my head and limbs off statistically higher in Brighton Beach than it would be in, say, Peekskill, or Bridge-port?”

  “They are,” he admitted. “Theoretically.”

  “Then why in holy hell are we going there?” She was yelling again.

  He thought of ten different replies to that in the space of a fraction of a second, but what actually came out surprised him.

  Just the truth. Dull, flat, miserable. “My aunt’s dying,” he said.

  She was startled into silence, but it couldn’t last long. Sure enough, she coughed delicately. “I’m sorry. And your aunt is . . . ?”

  “Tonya Arbatov. She’s in a hospice. Ovarian cancer. End stage.

  Dying any time now. She might be dead already.”

  “Ah,” she murmured. “You were close?”

  Close? For a second, he thought he’d have to pull over and throw up. Close? She was only a fucking million miles away. Like that star they’d seen on the Jersey Shore, forever out of reach.

  The memory of those weeks with Tonya and Julie, in the shabby motel. Those card games, movies. Seagulls on the pebbly beach.

  Close, his ass. He wasn’t close to anything on earth. He’d cut all ties. He was out there in fucking orbit. “Haven’t seen her in twenty-one years,” he said.

  “Oh. And yet, you—”

  “I’m going to the hospice. Now. I was heading there from the airport when I got your call. That was why I blew you off. She’s dying. I didn’t want to miss my chance to say good-bye.”

  “Oh, God, Aaro.” She sounded pained. “You could have said something. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have—”

  “Told me to fuck off? I didn’t take it personally. Why should I tell you? It wasn’t your problem.”

  “Would you stop being such a hard-ass?” she snapped.

  “No,” he said.

  She made a frustrated sound. “So you’re heading there now?”

  “We’re heading there,” he told her. “You’re stuck to me, until I hand you over to Bruno’s bodyguard. Afterward, we’ll listen to the file, call Bruno, meet up with the bodyguard, whatever you want. But now, now, we go to the hospice. Clear?”

  “Crystal.” She glanced at the car clock. “Can’t imagine it’ll still be visiting hours when we get there. It’s late.”

  “They’ll let me in,” he said. “They have no choice. I’m armed.”

  She gave him the big-eye. “Aaro? You’re making me nervous.”

  “How about we both just shut up, then?” he suggested.

  But she just couldn’t resist. “Will I meet the rest of your family?”

  “Doubt it,” he said.

  “No? If she’s dying, I imagine that—”

  “They ignored and neglected her her whole life, when she wasn’t locked in the nuthouse. They didn’t give a shit about her before. They’ll give even less now. She has no money to leave, no power or status to pass down. She’ll be alone. Like she always was.”

  Nina looked down. “That’s so sad,” she whispered.

  He snorted. Sad? Hah. That didn’t come close to describing the sucking black hole that was the Arbatov clan’s collective emotional vibe. God grant he could just slide in, say good-bye to Tonya without attracting any attention. Attention from Arbatovs tended to be toxic.

  It wasn’t a very hopeful thought. Hard as he tried to keep his head down, if there was a shitstorm to be caught in, his natural trajectory would always swing him through the middle of it.

  He sped past the hospice, circled the block. Checking for Arbatovs and other unspecified dangers. It looked quiet.

  Nina cleared her throat. “So. If you haven’t seen her in so long, then why are you so—”

  “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  She flinched back, stung. He stopped, maneuvered into a parking space. “I’m not happy about that,” he said stiffly. “That I haven’t seen her in twenty-one years. And that now she’s dying.

  That bums me out.”

  She nodded. He took that to mean she accepted his half-assed, oblique apology. Which was the only kind he could manage.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 10

  It didn’t take a degree in psychology, or even a seminar in people management, to see that Aaro was going to have problems getting in to see his aunt. Nina watched him antagonize the receptionist with his brusque tone, his sharp imperatives. He repeated the performance with the woman’s supervisor. A few more minutes of that, and his fate was sealed. They weren’t going to let him in. He kept making the situation worse. As it es-calated, she was nervously aware of his firearms.

  She didn’t think for one second that Aaro would hurt those women, but they wouldn’t know that, if he lost his tem
per.

  “You don’t understand,” he repeated. “I am immediate family.

  I have a different surname, but I was like her son, for years! Just tell her Sasha is here. She’ll tell you!”

  The supervisor’s head kept shaking, arms folded tight across her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Visiting hours were over hours ago, and her family has requested that access be limited to a preapproved list.”

  “I just bet they have,” Aaro growled. “What about what Tonya wants? She’ll want to see me. I guarantee it. Just . . . go . . . ask her. ”

  “She is resting. Please, go, sir. Or I will call the police.”

  “I need to see her now.” Aaro’s voice was getting louder.

  “She’s dying! She could die tonight! You know that!”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not on the list Mr. Arbatov gave us, and I—”

  “Listen to me, lady.” He leaned over the desk ’til the woman jerked back, eyes wide. “Do not try to tangle with me.”

  “Aaro!” Nina grabbed his arm.

  He shot her a fulminating glance. “What?” he barked.

  “Shhh. Calm down,” she whispered. “This isn’t helping.”

  “But she . . . is . . . dying! ” The words punched out of him. “I am not going to let a fucking list keep me from seeing my—”

  “Shhhh.” She tightened her fingers around his arm, which was very thick and solid and sinewy. She dug her nails in, hard, and pulled.

  He finally let her drag him away from the scowling hospice personnel. “Outside,” she murmured. “Where we can talk.”

  She nudged him to go out first, and slid a folded square of paper into the door to block the lock as she exited.

  It was chilly. Nina shivered in her thin rayon layers.

  “So?” he rapped out. “What are we doing out here, wasting time? Those cast-iron bitches aren’t—”

  “Shhh,” she soothed again. She patted his shoulders, awkwardly. “You’re going about this all wrong.”

  “Wrong how? I want to see her! I explain the situation, I ask permission, and those hags both stonewall me! She could be dead tomorrow! I am going in, whether they like it or—”

  “Be quiet!” She dug her fingernails into his arm again. “You do not want those women to call security. Or the police. Do you?”

  “Of course not,” he muttered. “But I can’t—”

  “Shut up and listen, you stubborn lout,” she whispered. “Stop banging your head against the wall! There are better uses for it!”

  He looked away, mouth tight, then pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, and tapped at the touch screen. She peered over to see.

  It was a building diagram. She stifled a hoot of laughter. How classically Aaro, to come to his aunt’s deathbed armed with a blueprint of the building, as if going on a black-ops mission. He angled it so she could see, and pointed. “Second floor. Room twenty-four twenty-five, unless they’ve moved her since this morning. End of the second corridor, on the right.”

  “You’ve done your homework,” she said.

  “I’d be an asshole if I didn’t.” He caught her gaze, narrowed his eyes, defensive. “Go on,” he said. “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “That I’m an asshole anyway. I saw it in your face.”

  “If you want the title so badly, just take it,” she said coolly.

  “Don’t ask me to participate in your weird little mind games.”

  He dismissed the interchange with an impatient flick of his hand. “There’s an entrance on the other side,” he said, pointing.

  “Another emergency exit, here. This one, I’m less likely to meet anyone coming out. Maybe I can pick the lock. Or I could shoot it out, like yours.”

  “Shoot . . . ? Good God! Are you nuts?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “It’s not like I need a long-term entry strategy. A breaching round would make a lot of noise. But I could—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You don’t have to go to such obscene lengths. I’ll open the door for you. From the inside.”

  His brows knit. There was a baffled silence. “What the fuck?”

  he said. “How do you propose to get in there? We just tried that.”

  She shook her head. “No. You just tried that.”

  “If they said no to me, they’ll say no to you.”

  “No, they won’t,” she said. “Because they won’t see me.”

  He just stared at her. “How do you figure? You’ll have to buzz to get in. You think they won’t notice?”

  She jerked her chin toward the door. “The door is still open,”

  she said. “I stuck a piece of paper in the lock just now.”

  Aaro started to turn his head to look. She cupped his hot face, jerking him sharply back around. His beard stubble scraped against her palm. “Do not draw their attention to it, idiot! Or you’ll wreck it.”

  His eyes went narrow. “You’re weirding me out, Nina.”

  “You should be used to it by now,” she said. “This not-being-seen thing, it’s a sort of talent I have. Or you could call it a dysfunction, depending on your point of view, and what you want to accomplish. But if I don’t want to be noticed, they won’t notice me.”

  He gazed at her for so long, so intently, she started to fidget.

  “You can make yourself invisible?” he said.

  His incredulous tone stung her. “Don’t be absurd. Of course not. I just slide by, without making an impression. It’s handy, sometimes. And sometimes it’s a big pain in the ass. Like, when I’m waiting in line at the coffee shop. On a bad day, I practically have to set off flares to get a goddamn latte and a scone. That’s the downside. Remember what happened with the taxis? Classic.

  It’s not so great for getting asked out on a date, either. But . . .

  well, whatever.”

  “I see,” he said. “Came in handy, with the dickhead step -

  father, too, huh? So this is why he messed with you, but not too much? Because you learned how to be invisible? Even to him?”

  She flinched, uncomfortable. “I never claimed to be invisible,” she said crabbily. “I said unnoticeable. People see me, for God’s sake. They just don’t notice me. Or remember me.”

  “Of course not, with that bag over your head,” he said.

  She flapped her hand at him. “Never mind, OK?” she said tightly. “Forget I said anything. If you don’t want my help—”

  “I never said that.” His big hands fastened firmly over her elbows. They sent sweet shudders of warm awareness shooting up into her chest, speeding her heart. “I just don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

  She had to force herself to remember. Nothing personal. He’d said so. Repeatedly. He owed Bruno that favor, and he was paying up. So don’t get gooey. “There’s hardly anyone inside,” she told him. “Patients, night staff. Nobody who’s gunning for me in there. I’ll be fine.”

  Aaro was shaking his head. “Won’t work. They saw me with you.”

  “Wrong,” she said. “They saw you, Aaro. Believe me, they will remember only you. You are super-memorable. You used up all their RAM. Just let me try, OK? The worst that can happen is that they stop me, scold me, and send me out with a flea in my ear. Big deal.”

  “I don’t like it,” he repeated.

  It came to her as she gazed at his face. A flash, as if a curtain had been twitched aside. She saw inside him. Or rather, felt inside him.

  And an ache of longing twisted her throat, like a screw turning to unbearable tightness. How lost he felt, how sad. The shadows, the chill. How violently he hated needing or asking for help from anyone.

  It made her eyes fog up. She clenched her body, made her voice businesslike. “So? Go to the entrance. Wait for me to open the door.”

  “If you’re not there in five, I’m coming back for you,” he warned.

  “You have to be patient. I have to wait for my moment.”

  He scowled. “Either you can do this, or
you can’t.”

  “No,” she said stubbornly. “You have to wait for the right moment. You have to be patient. Do you understand the concept?

  At all?”

  “No,” he said grimly. “I am not patient.”

  “Tough. Give me more than five. You want to see your aunt?”

  He let out a sound, half groan, half growl. “Ten. No more.”

  She made a shooing gesture. “It’s impossible to disappear with you throwing off that frequency. You’re, like, Times Square.

  Go, go.”

  Aaro turned, and disappeared into the shadows.

  Nina let out a breath that felt like it had been sealed in her lungs since the moment she’d first seen him. The darkness pressed on her now that Aaro was gone. Get it together, girl. This was her chance to be of use to this guy, and in some small way make up for his much bigger favor of saving her life. She did not want to screw it up.

  She maneuvered herself into the shadows of the bushes, into a position that allowed her to observe the receptionist without being seen. She waited, settling her mind and nerves. Not here.

  Not here. Just air.

  The receptionist got up, leaned on the doorframe, chatting with whoever was inside. Not here. Not important. Just air. No big deal. She sauntered to the door, shoved, caught the square of folded paper as it opened. She drifted along while the woman talked, passed the desk, cleared it, and was out of the receptionist’s current line of sight.

  Elevator, or stairs? She opted for the elevator, pushed the call button. Waited. Nobody here. Nothing but air. No big deal.

  The elevator opened. There was a janitor inside, with a garbage cart that blocked half the elevator cabin. A black man in his fifties. He had the blank, indifferent look of a person at the end of a long shift. Sore feet, sore back, no energy to be curious.

  Nina stepped in, and the guy put his hand over the numbered buttons, in automatic politeness.

  “Where to?” he asked dully.

  “Second floor, please,” she murmured. He pushed the button.

  They stared side by side into nothing as the cabin hummed up. The door opened. She nodded as she exited, but his eyes were closed.