Vicious: Steel Jockeys MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “Claudia.” Boris’s stern voice broke through her rationale and she jerked herself into motion behind him. “You gotta stay with me.”

  “Right.”

  “I think I see the parade approaching,” Boris said. “The route is just ahead.”

  “Can we watch it?”

  She barely caught his sigh over the clamor of voices. “You already know the answer to that.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Our first date is shaping up to be pretty boring.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I hate to see what kind of first dates you consider exciting.”

  His grip on her hand relaxed and they pressed forward, occasionally jostled by the zealous villager. At one point their hands slipped apart and Boris turned with panic in his eyes. She greeted him with a smile—“I’m still here, don’t worry”—and they continued on, hugged on all sides by sweating parade-goers.

  When Boris’s hand slipped from hers a second time, she didn’t fret. She kept him in her line of sight, though a few people pushed in between them. They must have been nearing the parade route itself, with how dense the people were getting. Boris’s closely cropped head bobbed just a few people ahead of her. Got him in my line of sight. All good.

  Someone shoved her from behind, a swell of people, and suddenly she was pushed off to the right, caught in a force she couldn’t control or change. Boris’s head disappeared into the masses and panic streaked through her. “Boris!”

  Her voice was swallowed up into the overwhelming chaos. Fuck. She stood on her tiptoes, desperate to lay eyes on him. Maybe she shouldn’t move—that seemed like a good way to get her bearings, at least—but the crowd was too dense, it pushed and pulled at her, like the aggressive waves of an ocean.

  She glimpsed an opening off to her right, under an overhang. A respite from the crowd. She darted that way, eager to use the relative calm as a way to ground herself. She couldn’t actually lose Boris in the crowd—right? They’d find each other.

  They had to.

  The lack of cell phone was like a knife at her throat. How did people used to find each other back in the day without phones to call? It boggled her mind—especially in the middle of parades. In amusement parks. In big cities. Basically anywhere.

  If only her phone weren’t floating at the bottom of the sea alongside Boris’s, they might not be having this problem right now. If only she hadn’t been kidnapped. That’s pretty much where all the troubles began. Anxiety knotted her gut and she crossed her arms, scanning the crowd fervently, desperate for a glimpse of Boris.

  “Waiting for someone?” A voice in English startled her out of her thoughts and she turned. A tall, bulky man, pale as a vampire and with thick, greased black hear smiled down at her.

  “Um, yeah.” She cast a forced smile at him and turned away, studying the crowd.

  “Maybe I can help.” He stepped closer when she stepped away. “I do, after all, have the advantage of height.”

  She glanced at him then stepped away again. “It’s okay. My friend will be here any moment.”

  “Yes, your friend.” The man clucked his tongue, hands clasped behind his back. “Has Boris been a good travel mate? I’ve been wondering.”

  The use of Boris’s name made her blood freeze. She spun slowly to face the stranger, hesitant to even tell herself she’d misheard him. There was no mishearing him. Which spawned a million other questions, the first one being: was this our tail?

  “Who are you?” The question leapt off her lips before she could even think twice.

  “I’m Vassily Pavlichenko.” The man smiled wanly, glistening white teeth shining through. He was such an odd presence, one that made her palms cold, even in the thick Croatian heat. What the fuck is this guy doing at this parade? Nothing made sense. It hadn’t made sense this morning, and it made even less sense now.

  “You know Boris?” She crossed her arms tighter.

  “Better than you.”

  “I doubt that.” She sniffed, realizing too late that probably it was obvious she didn’t know him well. Way to out yourself as an amateur. If she knew Boris well, she’d have known that this man was following them. She’d know why, too. Shouts swelled around them—in the distance, a chant began.

  “Has he informed you of his mission objective?” Pavlichenko arched an eyebrow.

  Claudia struggled to weigh the pros and cons of all possible reactions in the several seconds before a response was necessary, but she couldn’t crack the code. She had no idea how to play the game, because she didn’t even know what game she was playing. “Maybe he has, maybe he hasn’t.”

  Pavlichenko nodded and when he looked at her there was a sick smile on his face. “He’s been sent to kill your father.”

  At first the words didn’t make sense to her, like maybe she’d been listening for the wrong language. But no—that was English. Kill your father. She blinked hard, feeling the air tighten around her. “What?”

  “It may be hard to grasp,” Pavlichenko said. “But if you doubt me, rest assured that I’m speaking the truth. Because I’m the one who ordered it.”

  Claudia narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to him. “You ordered it? Why?”

  “I have my reasons.” He shrugged, his pasty skin practically garish in the sunlight. “Ones I certainly doubt you’d be able to fully appreciate.”

  “My father is a good man,” she said, her voice cracking. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”

  Pavlichenko chuckled sadly, like maybe he pitied her. “How little you know.”

  “Why would you tell me this?”

  “I’m here to pick up my asset and wrap up loose ends.” He shrugged. The boom-doom-doom of the bass drum grew louder. Trumpet squawks increased alongside the beat; the band was close. “You’re unfortunately a loose end.”

  Claudia balled her fists. “Did you burn down Filitov’s house?”

  “You mean the defector?” Pavlichenko grinned, rattling some loose change in his pockets when he looked up. “Oh, look who it is now.”

  Claudia followed his gaze. Boris approached through the crowd, pushing people aside to reach their clearing. Worry was etched onto his face as he neared. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, looking between both of them, looking more torn than she’d ever seen him.

  “Boris. Come join.” Pavlichenko gestured for him to come closer. “We won’t bite, I promise.”

  “No, you do much worse than that,” Boris muttered. He approached them, his gaze heavy on Pavlichenko. “How did you find us? I lost my phone in the ocean.”

  “Your transport,” Pavlichenko said, which apparently made sense to Boris because he sighed. What the hell did that mean? Claudia watched the two of them, the air thick with tension. Boris had been right—there’d been nothing boring about this day. And suddenly, boring seemed the most blessedly beautiful thing to hope for on the face of the earth. If only there’d be something boring about this day.

  Because if Boris was a hitman, that meant him being with her was a ploy. So he can kill my father. Rage shuddered through her and Boris reached out for her, as though he sensed it.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, stepping away from his outstretched hand.

  “The girl knows,” Pavlichenko said. He jerked his head away from the crowd. “Davai, poyehali.”

  Boris’s gaze landed on her and it felt painful, like being slapped. How could she be so stupid? His silence had said it all—he wasn’t the kind of guy to get messed up with. Their night on the hillside had been a mistake. She should have just run after him and left it at that.

  But what about saving you on the cruise ship? Too many questions; too many unknowns. A headache blossomed to life behind her right eye and she squeezed her eyes shut. The boom-doom-doom felt like it was inside her skull at this point. The clamor of Croatian vowels turned to screeches inside the cavity of her skull. She needed to get out—to find space. To fucking think for a second.

  “Where will we go?” Boris asked.

 
“You know better than to ask about field operations like this,” Pavlichenko said, the wan smile returning. “We can chat on the way. Let’s go. Now.”

  His tone left no room for debate. He headed away from the crowd, slipping around the edge of the building. Claudia scurried to keep up with him, eager to block Boris from her sight. He grabbed at her arm, causing her to spin around.

  “What did he tell you?” His voice came out low and desperate.

  “What I needed to know,” Claudia spat, yanking her arm from his grasp. The thought of his ‘mission’ made bile rise in her throat. She stormed away from him but he grabbed her arm again.

  “Tell me what he told you.”

  She drew furious breaths, nostrils flaring. “What you should have told me from the fucking start. That you were sent to kill my father.”

  Boris’s face tightened and she looked away, hurrying to keep up with Pavlichenko. What a dumb name. Almost as dumb as Boris. Between the two of them, she didn’t know who to trust more. And if she was smart, she’d take every word out of their mouths with a grain of salt.

  They were both invested in the demise of her father, and she had to find some way to stop the plan. If she didn’t, she’d never forgive herself for sleeping with her father’s hitman, or for the sneaky way she’d ever-so-slightly started to fall in love with him.

  That stopped today.

  Chapter Eleven

  Boris wasn’t used to this particular feeling in his chest. Like someone had cracked it open with a palm to his ribs and scooped out the insides, leaving a disturbing breeze in its wake.

  Claudia hadn’t met his eyes once in the car, despite his furtive attempts to engage and snag her attention. She might very well never look at him again, and the thought of that anger being the last thing between them. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Make it right, Boris. Make it right.

  But how? Pavlichenko pulled the car over to a small rest stop on the highway. Searing Boris with a look, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  He climbed out of the car, ambling slowly toward the squat gas station service center. Boris turned to look at Claudia, who glared out the window, brows furrowed.

  “Let’s talk.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Claudia, this shit is complicated.”

  Her eyes narrowed further.

  “I didn’t know how to tell you. And to be honest…” Words failed him. To be honest, he’s thought about getting the fuck out of the FSB—like Filitov did. He wanted to run away with her and just sit in the bliss of her gaze. But none of those things had space inside this car. Not when Pavlichenko might have it bugged. “I’ve never had to admit I’m a hitman.”

  Claudia scoffed and resumed her stony silence, but after a few moments she cracked. “How can you do it? I just don’t get it.”

  Boris let his gaze drift to the service center. Inside, Pavlichenko leaned against the wall on a pay phone. Always using untraceable methods. “It’s a job. Like anything else.”

  “It’s not like anything else, don’t even try to normalize it.”

  He shook his head, jaw clenching. She’d never understand. And maybe that’s what he needed to keep ahold of, in case he started thinking crazy thoughts about how someone like her and someone like him might ever have a chance together. “It gets normal, trust me. No matter how much you don’t want to believe it.”

  “Don’t you have any remorse?”

  “Like I said, doll. It’s a job. You do as you’re told.”

  Claudia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re killing innocent people!”

  He looked back at her, narrowing his eyes. “Trust me, they’re not innocent.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Most of the people I’m sent after have their fair share of sins.” He clenched his jaw, watching the door of the service center. Hoping Pavlichenko would take a while. At least long enough to wipe away some of the vitriol between them. “And maybe in that sense I’m just the angel of death.”

  Claudia was quiet a moment. “And my father deserves that? He should die for a handful of amorphous sins just because someone, because Pavlichenko decides it so?” She scoffed. “Bullshit.”

  Boris softened. “Listen, I don’t get involved. Like I said, it’s my job. People have their reasons. We all do stuff like this in our own ways.”

  “Oh, please.” Her voice was rimmed with knives. “Who else kills people like you do?”

  A sneer crossed his face. “Your father, for starters.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You think he’s innocent?” He swung to look at her, searing her with a look. “Before his exile, his men took part in the massacres across the Balkans. Nobody’s hands are clean. He just pull the trigger differently.”

  Claudia clamped her mouth shut but her nostrils flared.

  “I’m not saying he deserves it,” Boris added after the silence grew lethal. “I’m just saying he is equally as guilty, no matter which way you slice it. You might be his daughter, but I’m sure you don’t know the half of what goes on behind his desk.”

  “Yeah, well, it seems everyone likes to leave little Claudia in the dark, huh?” She laughed bitterly. “Since I clearly can’t understand the way the world works, let’s just keep me out of the loop so the real men can handle the important shit.”

  “Claudia—“

  “No, Boris. It’s fine. That’s how the world works for you. I’m just glad I’m seeing it now, because that’s not the world I want to live in.”

  Boris clenched his jaw, studying the service center. Maybe Pavlichenko could come back now. “It’s not like that—”

  “Oh, it’s not? Well it seems to me I’ve been passed around between a whole slew of men who seem to think they run the world and all the information in it. You’re part of it. When you ask me to trust you, really what you’re saying is I don’t deserve to know what’s really going on. And that’s fucked up.”

  “Claudia, it’s not like that.” His voice came out gruff. She was all wrong—and her misperception bothered him more than he could properly understand. “I ask you to trust me because I’m trying to get you home safe. I’m trying to protect you and care for you, because if anything happened to you I’d lose my shit.”

  Her green eyes glinted hard. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you’d care if something happened to me. Care about me today, kill my dad the next. Just a day in the life of Boris, is that it?”

  He sighed, massaging his temples with thumb and forefinger. “You’re upset. I get it. But you should know that there are some things even I don’t know about. You’re not the only one in the dark. I follow orders, you know.”

  “A dirty cog in the fucked-up wheel,” she spat. She crossed her arms again, sliding her gaze back to the window.

  He let her words hang in the air. She was right, after all.

  “Are you still going to do it?” Her voice broke. “After all this?”

  He steeled his jaw, looking back toward the service center. “I can’t answer that.”

  She scoffed, and then sniffed. “Fucked up, Boris. You’re fucked up.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Can’t argue with you there. Pavlichenko emerged from the service center and he turned to face her. “I’m going to get you home safe. I promise.”

  “Why, so I can bury my dad?”

  Her words cut through him like a jagged shard of glass. He settled into his seat, staring out the windshield, jaw flexing as he corralled his kneejerk reactions. She was being unreasonable, irrational; but she had every right in the world to talk to him that way. Pavlichenko arrived at the driver’s side and slid into the car, whistling softly.

  “Ready to continue our fun family trip?” His smile unsettled him. The car roared to life, Pavlichenko’s whistling the strange soundtrack to whatever lay ahead; making his stomach plummet, like the pressure shift before a thunderstorm.

  ***

  A few hours late
r, Pavlichenko pulled up to a non-descript warehouse on the fringe of Dubrovnik. The car clicked off, leaving them in a bloated silence.

  “Here we are,” Pavlichenko said, tossing smiles at them both. “Shall we?”

  Boris pushed his door open, boots scuffing on the gravel parking lot. He caught Claudia’s eye from over top of the car—she couldn’t have looked more miserable. He headed for her but she hurried to keep up with Pavlichenko. She trusts him over you now.