He glances over at me, his eyes steely and cold.
“I should never have let you get so close to me,” he growls.
My stomach twists into knots as a shiver runs down my spine.
Across the room, my phone beeps. I ignore it.
“W-What?” I ask, taking a step forward and shaking my head in confusion. I flash back to that first fateful evening at the Tavern, when a tall, mysterious stranger sidled up next to me at the bar counter and paid for my drink. “What do you mean? ‘Let me get close?’ You’re the one who came after me, Alexei. Don’t get it twisted.”
I can see a muscle in his jaw tightening and twitching, his hands curling into tight fists. His chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh and he looks away. “And I can see now that was a mistake.”
Tears spring to my eyes, but I’m not just hurt. I’m angry. Again, my phone beeps.
“Where the hell is this coming from?” I demand to know. “We were in this together five minutes ago and now suddenly you’re looking at me like I’m some huge liability.”
He gives me a pained expression.
“Daisy, you’re not the liability. I am,” he says quietly.
“What do you mean? You’re the one who saved my life! You saved me from Dean Ashcroft. You took me from that bar. You kept me protected. You kept me safe. You taught me how to shoot a gun. I-I’m prepared for anything now,” I protest.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.
“But you shouldn’t have to be prepared for anything. It’s not your life. It’s not your way.”
“You’re not making any sense, Alexei,” I tell him. I walk over to him and take his hand away from his face, holding it with both of mine. I gaze up at him even though he won’t meet my eyes. “You’re the hero of this story. We’re in this together,” I assure him.
“I am no hero. I have done terrible things,” he replies softly.
“You were following orders,” I remind him.
“I have the blood of many, many men on my hands,” he adds.
I lift his hand to my lips and gently kiss his palm, then press it against my cheek, leaning into the warmth as I look up at him with fierce adoration.
“Bad men. You told me they were all bad men. Like Dean. Men who deserved exactly what they got,” I affirm.
He looks at me, finally, and I feel almost dizzy with the radiance of his gaze. There is intense sadness in his eyes, his jaw still tightening as though he’s desperately trying to hold something back, but I don’t know what it is. I am almost afraid to ask.
My phone beeps again and I groan in frustration, rolling my eyes. “God, this is not the time for this,” I mutter. I let go of Alexei’s hand and cross the room to snatch up my phone just outside the closet angrily. I slide open the screen, taking note of how dangerously low the battery is. I’m amazed it has any juice left by now, actually. But it has just enough for me to open up my social media app and check the many notifications lighting up in bright red. As I do so, my eyes widen and my heart starts racing.
“Alexei,” I gasp. My hands start to shake.
“What is it?” he asks, worried about me. He rushes over, staring at me.
I hold up my phone, pointing to the many, many messages posted on my account. Messages from some local guys I only know tangentially, who are a few years older than me. Messages from friends of Dean’s. Angry, accusing messages.
SLUT.
How dare you cheat on Dean?
JEZEBEL.
I know what you did!
SKANK.
Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but I know the truth!
BITCH.
You’re gonna pay for what you did to him!
“Who the hell are these people?” Alexei growls, taking the phone from me and scrolling through them with a scowl on his face.
“I guess someone at the Tavern must have seen me go home with you that night. Or maybe Dean told his buddies what he saw before he… before you…” I trail off, going pale.
“Before I killed him,” Alexei finishes flatly.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“Do you know any of these men very well?” he asks, handing the phone back to me.
I shake my head.
“No. Not at all. Dean was pretty secretive about his personal life, at least with me. I mean, I guess he told all these guys that he was seeing me, but that’s no surprise. It’s a small town, and Dean was even more well-known than I am. Of course people would believe him that we were going out. But you know what this means, right?” I ask, brightening up.
Alexei is silent, looking concerned and contemplative.
“It means that whoever spray-painted my car is just some dumb local. Some idiot who was just seeking out some petty revenge because I supposedly cheated on his buddy. That’s good news, right? It is!” I insist, laying my hand on Alexei’s powerful arm. He looks at me sharply and shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says.
I furrow my brow, looking at him like he must be insane.
“What do you mean? Of course it matters! This means we’re off the hook, Alexei! It means that nobody suspects that you or I had anything to do with Dean’s death. They’re just mad at me for ‘cheating’ on him! It’s a dumb redneck prank, not some elaborate conspiracy,” I explain, a chuckle of relief coming out.
But he doesn’t look convinced or relieved at all.
I glance over at the stash bag full of extra passports, weapons, and burner phones. I point to it and say, “We don’t have to go on the run or whatever, we’re fine. We can stay here. Nobody knows the full story about what happened. Hell, nobody even knows Dean isn’t still alive, right? Maybe it’ll blow over. Maybe everyone will just think he ran off to join the rodeo or something. He was just crazy enough to do something stupid like that, anyway, and everybody knew it. There is no reason for anyone to suspect us. Sure, it’s a hassle and a pain in the ass that these stupid guys graffitied my truck, but who cares? In the long run, that doesn’t matter. Everything is going to be okay.”
“I wish it was as simple as you think it is,” he sighs. “I wish I could live in that world.”
I take a half-step back, blinking in confusion at his words. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him, feeling offended. “Excuse me? Are you calling me stupid?” I ask.
Alexei rushes to reassure me.
“No, of course not. I’m calling you innocent.”
“Why does everyone keep calling me that? I’m not innocent, Alexei! I’m involved with a murder cover-up, okay? I went home with a dangerous man from a bar, a dangerous man who saved my ass and killed the man who was stalking me. And you know what? I’m not upset that the asshole is dead. I don’t care. No— I’m actually fine with it. I’m happy about it. Maybe someday that will come back to bite me in the ass, but right now? I’m just relieved it’s not worse than I thought. This is a problem we can deal with. We can handle this. And whether you like it or not, I am a part of this story now. I’m partly to blame, and I’m in this with you. Right beside you. For better or for worse,” I declare firmly.
But he’s in his own head, impervious to my words. “I should never have allowed this to reach you. I screwed up,” he mutters to himself.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you as happy about this as I am?” I demand, throwing up my arms and waving them to get his attention. I even stomp my foot, feeling rather like a petulant child, but unable to hold back my confusion and anger any longer.
“Because,” he says calmly, “you are not the only one to have received a message.”
“What did it say?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. I had momentarily forgotten about him breaking one of the phones in my excitement.
He straightens up, looking more imposing and stoic than ever before. I could almost be afraid of him if I didn’t know how much goodness is in his heart. I can feel the light radiating from him. I know that underneath the scars and the tattoo and the darkness that has
descended around him like smog, Alexei is a good man. And I will stand by him until the end, no matter what happens, no matter what he’s about to tell me.
“I should have kept this to myself. I should have stayed solitary,” he growls.
“But you didn’t,” I reply simply. “And now I’m here. And I’m asking you to let me in. To show me the truth. I don’t care how ugly it is. I don’t care how much danger it may put me in. I need to know the truth, Alexei. You’re not going anywhere without me. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
He nods, realizing how serious I am. He opens his mouth to speak.
“In New York, I was on trial,” he says.
“I know,” I answer.
“For murder,” he says.
“I know.”
He pauses, fixing me with an intense stare. “It was not my first, and as you know, it was not my last. But it was the first and only time I have been in court for my crimes. I intend to never do that again.”
“But you got off,” I remind him. “You got out of there scot-free.”
“Not quite,” Alexei replies darkly. “I was scarred. I was tired. I wanted out of the game. I could have gone to jail for killing a man who deserved to die. I was acting on my orders, just as I always did. I was a weapon for the Bratva, nothing more. I was untouchable, living outside the restrictive boundaries of the law. I applied myself to a different moral code, one that is incongruent with the law of the land. And I had accepted my fate, my place in the world. I was not pleased with it, exactly, but I had long since made my peace with my sins. But being in that courtroom— it changed something inside of me.”
“How?” I ask.
“I decided to live my life for myself, to stop following orders. I had been an obedient, valuable member of the Brotherhood for years. Even before I had officially been recruited to join their ranks, I was being groomed for that life. Rada, my rather neglectful foster mother, was taking money from the mafia. It was not Rada who paid for my clothes, my meals, my bed. She was merely a tool of the Bratva, keeping tabs on the young boys who would be funneled directly into the fold once we were old enough,” he explains.
“You wanted to be free,” I breathe.
Alexei nods firmly. “Yes. I wanted to live free. And not just in regards to prison. I escaped that dark fate by the skin of my teeth. The witnesses were cowed into withdrawing testimony. Without them, the case was purely circumstantial. The Bratva moves in shadows. They leave no trace, no trail. I was no different. I am very well-trained, Daisy, and I left not a hair nor print for the law to follow. I have always been good at cleaning up my own messes,” he says with a wry smile.
He pauses to gather his thoughts and I wait patiently.
“After I walked out of that courtroom, surprised to find myself a free man once more, I decided I was finished following orders that could put me in prison. I had been a somewhat willing captive of the Bratva since the very first moment my feet touched American soil. From time to time, it had felt good, even safe, to belong to something larger and more powerful than myself. But after the trial, I was done. I went to the Brotherhood and I asked them for their blessing to depart, to start over somewhere far away, far from the mean streets of the big city. Far from the accusations and the bloodshed and the commands that ruled my life. I needed to be my own man.”
“And they let you leave?” I ask, totally taken aback.
“Yes,” he says. “But only because I had served them so dutifully. Even when I was in police custody in the months leading up to the trial, I never let slip a single word to incriminate any of my brothers. I insisted that I acted alone, of my own accord. I kept my lips shut tight, refusing to allow the Bratva’s name to come up. The police suspected they were involved. Some of them knew without a doubt that I was acting on someone else’s orders. But I refused to give in to their questions. I stayed quiet, even to my own detriment. I was lucky to walk out of that courtroom a free man, and because I had performed so well under pressure and remained utterly loyal to my brothers, the Bratva decided to reward me with that most elusive and unimaginable of gifts: the freedom to walk away from it all.”
“And so you came here, to Broken Pine,” I murmur.
He nods, walking over to put his hands on my shoulders, peering down at me.
“Yes. I came here because I thought it would be quiet. A place to hide, to live simply and without adornment. No one here would question me, and my past would stay behind me in New York. And for some time, it worked. I was right. Broken Pine was quiet and unassuming, the perfect place for a dangerous man to hide. After all, what better place for a wolf to hide from his pack than in the midst of the flock?” he says, smiling wistfully. “But then, something changed.”
“Me,” I sigh.
“Yes, you. Daisy, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew it would be impossible for me to stay away. And when I saw that dark shadow, that prick, hovering around you, I could not let him keep you. I took him down, and I don’t regret my decision for a moment,” Alexei admits. “I only regret that my decision has drawn undue attention to me, and by extension, to you.”
“But the graffiti… what does that have to do with you?” I ask plaintively. “It’s just some dumb prank. It has to do with my crime, my sin, not yours.”
“You’re right. It has nothing to do with me except that it widens the target to include you along with me,” he answers.
“The target?” I repeat. “But if we’re the target, who’s pointing the gun? I don’t understand, Alexei. You’re not suggesting that some local idiot from this podunk town has some crazy mafia connections or something, right?”
“Of course not,” he says.
“Then who the hell is after us?” I ask.
“Someone from my past. Someone who must have a grudge against me. I assume it is one of my former brothers, someone convinced that I did not keep tight-lipped while under police custody. Someone who wants revenge. Or silence. You see, Daisy, the Bratva is like a powerful ship sailing the seas. And if there is one tiny hole in the body, that can spring a leak and take down the entire ship. I assume that whoever is after me right now considers me that leak,” Alexei tells me. “And he plans to plug the hole, by whatever means necessary.”
“Oh my goodness,” I mumble, wide-eyed with fear.
“Goodness has nothing to do with it,” he replies gruffly.
“What are we gonna do?” I question, grabbing his hand. He lifts it to his lips and gives my fingers a gentle kiss, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I was planning to leave,” he tells me flat-out.
“Without me?” I ask, feeling my heart breaking.
Alexei pulls me into his arms and hugs me close, kissing the top of my head. “Only to give you a chance at surviving. But I can see now that there is no way to cleanly remove you from the target. We’re in the crosshairs together, and now I must think of somewhere we can go, somewhere we can hide. The message I received came days ago.”
“Days ago?” I repeat, pushing back to look up at him in horror.
He nods. “Unfortunately, yes. I will admit that my time here in Broken Pine has made me complacent. I stopped checking my burner phones on a constant basis like I used to. I had started to believe I truly could escape my past. It felt safe here. And the last few days has been a whirlwind. I neglected my duty to my safety. But I was wrong to be so foolish. My sins back in the city are far too great to have expected them to stay in the past where they belonged. But we can’t stay here, Daisy. We need to move.”
“Where?” I ask, terrified.
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Not here. Not your house. We need someplace with a strategic vantage point. Somewhere from which we can watch the town closely.”
Suddenly, an idea occurs to me and I gasp aloud. Alexei looks down at me, worried.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I know where we can go.”
Alexei
My motorcycle roars down the road toward the
outskirts of town, and I feel truly free, despite the fact that I should be feeling anything but that right now.
Daisy’s arms are around my waist, holding onto me from behind and peering over my shoulder as I blaze down the road. Wind whips around us, and I feel her body heat warming me from behind. It feels right in a way I can’t explain.
If only we weren’t fighting for our lives.
It’s too warm for my leather jacket, but I’m wearing it to conceal the two pistols I have strapped to my sides. There’s a hunting knife strapped to my belt, and a pair of sunglasses shield my eyes from the glaring light above.
There’s a small pack of equipment stored in the motorcycle, including a couple of bedrolls and enough rations to last us a while. The truck was too dangerous to take into town, I decided. If someone has been after me for at least three days, they’ll have seen my truck, but I haven’t ridden my bike in over a week, so whoever is after me isn’t going to be expecting that.
And if I know the people who are after me, they have certainly been watching me.
I don’t even know how many are out there. It could be one, or it could be a dozen.
I slow the bike down as we get close to the old mechanic shop that Daisy had told me about. It’s a run-down looking place, but it looks like it has stood for many decades. There’s an antique feeling to it, and the For Sale sign hanging on the front makes it look vaguely haunted in an eerie sort of way.
Behind the shop is the beginning of a corn field that stretches far enough that I can’t see the other side. Nebraska corn fields rise up like the tides of an ocean, far and wide and sometimes endless. I’ve gotten used to them since settling in Broken Pine, but they can still be disorienting if you stare into them for too long.
As we slow down, the engine gets quiet enough that I can listen to the stillness of the town, and there’s a strange energy around the auto shop. It’s as if time slowed down here, or simply stopped.
I pull up to the shop, and Daisy hops off with her ring of keys jingling in her hands as she moves to one of the padlocked shutter doors. A moment later, she pushes the door up, and it starts sliding on its own. She slips inside and stops the mechanism just as it’s far up enough to let me inside with the bike.
I Hired a Hitman Page 14
