Another part of her knew that what she was looking at was real. Regardless of how she acquired them, regardless of what she was feeling now…she knew the information was too important to ignore. Because she had started to put everything together.
The file didn’t just include his financial records, or sad lack of the same. It was a collection of various contracts, paperwork, records, even newspaper clippings and announcements. It almost resembled a file of things meant to be placed into a scrapbook.
Except many of the clippings were about Walter Jacobs and TBL; there were even a few on George Toomey. And none of them had anything to do with the financial records included in the same file, which made Bobbi wonder why they were thrown together. Sloppy filing? A way to divert suspicion? Or a silent call for help? She was suspicious at first, until a tiny nagging feeling started pulling at her.
“Sorry, Bobbi, but I’m just not as gullible as you are. Of course, I’m not sleeping with him so…”
Bobbi was so tired of his snide sarcastic comments that she nearly threw something at him. In fact, it took more control than she would have thought to stay seated and ignore him. Denny was trying to get a reaction from her. Why? Jealousy? She seriously doubted it. Their short-lived marriage had been dubious at best, disastrous at worst. Friendship and companionship had never even entered into the relationship.
Several lines of red popped up on the screen in front of her, screaming for her attention. She sat up straighter, then leaned forward, double-checking her eyesight, making sure she was seeing what she was really seeing. Ignoring Denny, she scribbled several notes onto her pad, trying not to jump to conclusions, trying not to see patterns where none existed.
She finished scanning the file, then backed out of the program and pulled the stick from the computer. She then went in to make sure all traces of the files were erased from the computer before packing her things up and tossing everything into her bag.
“What? Done so soon?”
Bobbi stood, her back popping from sitting so long, hunched in front of the computer. “For tonight, yeah.”
“And did you find anything?”
Bobbi turned and gave him a cool look, hoisting the bag higher on her shoulder. “I’ll figure that out later.” Tomorrow, after she had a chance to look at things with fresh eyes. There were still more files to go through, more patterns to piece together, but tonight’s work was a start.
Now, it was time to go home. She would lock the paperwork and memory sticks up so they were safe, and she would go home.
Or rather, she would go to Nikolai’s first. Her throat tightened at the thought of the conversation she needed to have with him, and for an instant she considered putting it off, considered actually just going back to her own place and sleeping. But the vibration of the phone in her pocket let her know that she wouldn’t be able to do that so easily.
She reached down and silenced the phone once more, then walked out of Denny’s office without another word.
**
Bobbi let herself into Nikolai’s house and locked the door behind her, mildly surprised that the downstairs was empty and quiet. There was a glow from the light in the kitchen in the back, but that was the only sign of life downstairs.
She blew out a sigh and removed the key from her ring then placed it on the end table in the living room. Noises drifted from the upstairs, the clink of metal against metal, and Bobbi knew that Nikolai was in his weight room. She paused at the foot of the stairs, asking herself if she really knew what she was doing, if this was what she really wanted to do. The answer to both questions was “no”, but she didn’t have a choice.
The emotion that sliced through her that morning when Toomey had told her Nikolai was going back to Russia to visit his family had been swift and raw. And unexpected. The fact that the sudden pain had cut so deeply and quickly had been harsh evidence that she was too emotionally involved.
Nikolai had lied to her.
She climbed the steps slowly, her hand gripping the railing. She had finally sent Nikolai a text message letting him know that the water problem in her complex had been fixed—yeah, more than a month had gone by for what was supposed to be a “week’s diversion”—and that she would stop by to get her things. She had sent a text because she hadn’t been ready to actually talk to him, hadn’t been willing to say the words out loud. He had tried calling her but she refused to pick up the phone, so he finally texted her back, letting her know she didn’t need to leave.
The conversation, such as it was, went downhill from there as she told him she wanted to leave, wanted to be back in her own place. It had ended with a short, curt reply from him: fine.
God, she hated text messages, hated that she had used such an impersonal way of communicating with him. But she had gladly done it, grateful that she wouldn’t have to have the conversation face-to-face.
Bobbi paused at the top of the stairs, not wanting to pass in front of the open door to the second bedroom, his weight room. But there was no choice, since it was directly across from the bedroom. She took a deep breath then kept going, turning into the bedroom, not daring to glance into the weight room, not wanting to see Nikolai.
But her steps faltered and she stopped, her heart slamming into her chest. Fresh flowers had been arranged around the room, and more candles than usual covered every surface. Most had been blown out but a few were still lit, filling the room with a hint of vanilla and spice. Her glance drifted to the bed and tears filled her eyes at the sight of rose petals covering the comforter. A bottle of wine sat on the nightstand, nestled in a bucket next to two glasses. A puddle of water marred the surface of the nightstand and the wine had been opened. Bobbi could see it was less than half-full, could see the remains of wine in one of the glasses.
Her heart constricted painfully and tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. She could not—would not—let the romantic gesture affect her. She couldn’t.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to the closet and pulled out her duffel bag, then began tossing clothes into it. The metal clanging from across the hall had stopped, and she knew exactly when Nikolai entered the room behind her. She stiffened but didn’t turn around, just kept blindly shoving her things into the bag.
“I put your key on the end table downstairs,” she said, because she had to say something to break the awful silence that weighed so heavily in the room. She heard noise behind her, the sloshing of the bottle being lifted from the bucket of water, the clink of glass-on-glass followed by the gurgle of wine being poured. But Nikolai said nothing, so she spoke to fill the void.
“I’ll leave a copy of this week’s schedule downstairs for you. You have an interview after Thursday’s practice, and the ceremony and press conference after Sunday’s game. Nothing else,” she paused, clearing her throat, “um, nothing else has changed so…”
“No? You say nothing has changed?” His voice, when he finally spoke, was throaty, hoarse. Bobbi closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, refusing to turn around as she shook her head.
“Um, no, nothing.” She took a deep breath and zipped her bag closed, not caring if she left anything behind, needing only to get out of there. She hoisted it from the bed and turned, nearly stumbling when her gaze fell on Nikolai only a few feet away.
Bare-chested, wearing only a pair of loose, low-riding exercise shorts and sneakers, he was leaning against the wall, watching her. His hair was damp with sweat, strands clinging to his face and neck. The light of the room threw his face into shadow, darker splashes hollowing out his cheeks. One hand held a half-empty glass, while the other rested on his hip, a carefully negligent posture at complete odds with the waves of frustration, anger, and hurt she could feel rolling off him. He lifted the glass to his lips and drained the contents in one swallow, his gaze never leaving hers.
She stared at him for a long minute, then unglued her feet from the floor and forced herself to move, to leave, to get out of there before she did or said something she’d regret.
Nikolai’s hand shot out as she passed him, closing around her arm just enough to stop her. Bobbi froze, torn between pulling herself from his hold—or throwing herself completely into it. She felt his eyes on her, demanding that she look at him, but she kept her gaze on the floor.
“You are leaving. Yet you will not say why.”
“Nikolai, I…I can’t stay, okay? I just can’t, that’s all.”
“Look at me, moe krasivejshee.” His whispered voice was coaxing, his thumb caressing the inside of her elbow seductive. She took a deep breath and stood straighter, determined to pretend he had no pull on her.
Her determination faltered when she turned her head to finally look at him, and she nearly threw herself in his arms when she saw the moisture shining in his eyes. He didn’t blink, didn’t look away, just continued gazing at her, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin.
“You have stolen my heart these past many weeks. You have made me love you. And now you are leaving, taking my heart with you. Because I am not whole without you. I love you, my beautiful one.” His voice cracked but still he didn’t look away, and Bobbi fought not to react.
Damn him, she thought, willing her eyes not to tear up. Once again he fell back to his native Russian, not trusting her enough to tell her how he felt in English, not realizing she understood him all the same. Damn him.
She tugged her arm from his hold and watched as his hand fell limply to his side, his clear gaze still holding hers, searching. She cleared her throat and shook her head, not knowing what to say, then realizing there wasn’t anything she could say.
It would be easier this way. She knew it would.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the rink,” she finally muttered, and walked out of the room and down the stairs, wondering if he would follow, hoping he would, praying he wouldn’t.
She threw her bag on the front seat of her car and slammed the door behind her, blindly jamming the keys into the ignition as she wiped her arm across her eyes. Within minutes she was driving north, not paying attention to where she was going, just driving, needing to get away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She had no idea how much time had gone by as she drove aimlessly through the city, but it was long enough that a certain numbness claimed her and put much-needed distance between her and the news she had been given this afternoon.
Nikolai had a family.
Her phone rang and she dug it from her pocket, planning on turning it off in case it was Nikolai calling again. She blinked her gritty eyes and glanced down at the phone, looking for the power switch, when she noticed the number on the screen.
“Where are you?” Denny’s voice was curt, business-like, interrupting her greeting. She picked up on the tone immediately and instantly sat straighter in the driver’s seat, her hand tightening on the wheel as she looked at the signs overhead.
“I’m on 83 North, almost to Northern Parkway, heading home.”
“Get off at the next exit and get to the office. Do not go home. I repeat, do not go home.”
Bobbi glanced in her rearview mirror and cut across all three lanes so she could exit. Headlights from a car several vehicles behind her did the same.
“Shit,” she mumbled, watching the headlights behind her as she eased onto the exit ramp. They followed her. “What’s going on, Denny?”
“Walter Jacobs showed up at Petrovich’s not long ago. Our guy couldn’t tell what was being said, but it looked like they were having an argument. Petrovich apparently looked very worried when Jacobs left. He made a phone call then took off in his own car. It looks like he’s heading over to your place.”
Bobbi cut through traffic and stopped at the light to the southbound exit ramp then looked in her mirror. The car that had followed her was still behind her, several cars back.
Waiting to enter the southbound ramp.
“Are you sure that’s where he’s headed?”
“Yes. I have him being followed. I also have somebody sitting at your place. Which is also being watched by an as-of-yet unidentified vehicle.”
Bobbi’s heart tripped into overtime, and she took a deep breath to quell the adrenaline rush as the light turned green and she sped onto the ramp. The other car followed, passing the slower vehicles between them.
“Yeah, well…we have another problem right now. I’m being followed.” Bobbi divided her attention between her rearview mirror and the nighttime traffic in front of her. “I can’t make out what kind of vehicle, he’s still too far behind me, but he’s definitely following.”
Bobbi changed lanes, passing a slower car, then changed lanes again, watching the car behind her do the same.
“Are you certain?”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”
“Dammit.” Denny paused, and she could tell his mind was working out different scenarios, going over different opportunities and what-ifs. “Okay, change of plans. Do you know where city police headquarters is?”
“Fayette and President, at the bottom of 83? Yeah, why?”
“Howard’s making some calls now. Head there. The garage entrance is on Baltimore Street. I’ll make sure you get in.”
Bobbi visualized the route in her head, remembering the layout of the streets: a right off the interstate onto Fayette, past Gay Street, left onto Commerce Street, left onto Baltimore and through the red-light district known as The Block. She always thought it was ironic that police HQ was right next to The Block. But the HQ building was like a fortress, with concrete barricades built around it right after 9/11. Suspicions may have died down after all these years, but the fortress still stood strong.
Bobbi sped up just a bit, watching the car behind her keep pace with her. Did they realize she knew they were behind her?
“What about Nikolai?”
“Right now I’m more concerned about you. I’ll worry about him later.”
“Dammit Denny! No. You make sure nothing happens to him. Do you hear me?”
“What the hell do you want me to do, Bobbi?”
“Denny—”
“Fine, I’ll think of something. Where are you now?”
Bobbi looked up at the passing exit sign, then glanced back in her mirror. The car behind her was closer now, but still maintaining a steady distance. She pushed on the gas and sped around a car, and groaned when her tail did the same. “Shit. I just passed Maryland Avenue, and I think they just caught on that I know they’re behind me.”
“Then push it. I’m on my way there now.”
She was pushing it. Bobbi didn’t bother to tell him that, though, just kept her attention divided between the traffic in front of her and the car behind her, working up speed as she cleared the curves past Penn Station.
The car was dangerously close now, and she no longer bothered to hide the fact she was trying to evade it. Her foot punched the gas pedal and she shot forward, weaving around traffic, not slowing down until the very last minute as she careened off the expressway and onto Fayette Street with a squeal of tires. Horns blared behind her as the car stayed with her.
“Location?” Denny’s voice was firm but cool in her ear. She hit the speaker button on the phone and tossed it on the dash, putting both hands on the wheel as she sped up Fayette to Commerce.
“About two blocks away and…damn the traffic light.” She slammed on the brakes at Commerce and Baltimore, her pulse pounding as she narrowly missed being broadsided. Bobbi looked to her right as headlights grew larger in her rearview mirror, then shot into the intersection and hooked a sharp left onto Commerce and another sharp left onto Baltimore. The car behind her was forced to stop for the heavier traffic along the Block, but she kept going, not slowing down until she reached the barricaded entrance of the police parking garage.
“I’m here. Shit, he’s not letting me through,” she muttered loud enough for Denny to hear. The police officer approached her car, his hand on his gun as he motioned to her. Bobbi rolled down her window and stuck her head out, watching for headlights.
&
nbsp; “Bobbi Reeves. Someone should have just called for—get down!” Headlights lit the side of her car and she threw herself across the front seat as shots rang out. She heard glass shattering, heard several more shots, followed by a deadly silence. Then, as if from a distance, she heard her name being shouted, heard scrambling movement from the driver’s side of her car.
She cautiously sat up and came face-to-face with the shaken officer, who was now holding his gun on her. She raised her hands slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, as Denny’s voice continued to spill from her cell phone speaker.
“Bobbi! Are you alright?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Nobody’s hurt. But you might want to hurry up and get here, because I think I’m about to be arrested.”
**
Silence filled the room, blessed silence, and Bobbi closed her eyes to savor the brief respite, wondering if the night could possibly be any longer. The answer, obviously, was yes, but she didn’t want to think about that just yet.
Denny entered the room, carrying a steaming cup of coffee, followed by Howard. He placed the cup in front of her then sat down with a sigh. “Everything’s settled here. I had your car towed for repairs, and there’s a replacement outside. Are there any other details you can think of?”
Bobbi took a deep gulp of the coffee, welcoming its high octane burn, and shook her head. “Nothing.”
She had given them as many details as possible, but the truth was she hadn’t been able to see much with headlights blinding her. The police officer—who was thankfully unhurt—was able to give a better description of the vehicle. And, of course, they had the security tapes. Unfortunately, they didn’t have a clear picture of the driver.
“Then there’s nothing else for you to do except go home and get some sleep. Did you want anyone to drive you?”
“No, I’m fine.” It was the truth. She was coming down from an adrenaline high, but she was fine. Pissed off, but fine. “Is my place still being watched?”
Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) Page 14
