Miguel had always been a chatterbox, but his intention seemed purposely designed to distract his two green-faced observers.
“No. Andrea Nilsson said I.A. is investigating their unit, but it doesn’t sound like they’ve gotten very far. Whoever it is, they’re in the pocket of the Russo crime family.”
Dead silence.
“Oh, man!” Emma exploded. She began pacing around the room. “Oh, man! They’re going to find us with cement booties, aren’t they? Do they still do that? Or do they just whack us and dump our bodies in the forest? I saw a True Crime episode about the mob.”
“No one is getting whacked. This isn’t an organized thing.” He hoped. “It’s one out of control criminal. We’ll find him, and our lives can go back to normal.”
“And if it’s Russo himself?” Miguel asked.
“Val seems confident it isn’t.”
“Val does, huh?”
Maksim didn’t like his tone. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing.” Miguel tied off the final knot. “Never known you to be the trusting sort, is all.”
Maksim dropped his gaze to the man beneath his hands. Val was a perfect specimen of hard masculinity, made up entirely of coiled strength and powerful muscle. He was so young, but somehow, Maksim kept forgetting that fact.
His face should have held the softness of youth in his sleep, but it didn’t. A wrinkle between his brows indicated he registered the pain somewhere in his unconscious mind.
But it wasn’t his expressions that contradicted his age. It was the look in his eyes, hard and direct and a thousand years old.
It was those eyes that had earned his trust before they’d ever exchanged a word.
He’d been silent too long. Miguel wasn’t in a teasing mood any longer. He looked grim as he taped a thick gauze pad over his stitches.
They didn’t speak for the rest of Val’s treatment.
Eventually, Miguel disconnected the IV and rechecked Val’s blood pressure before packing his bag.
Emma had evidently warmed to playing nurse and was tucking a clean sheet over Val’s chest, so Maksim followed his friend out the door.
“He should be fine,” Miguel announced as he stepped onto the outside landing. They stared at the wet parking lot rather than look at each other. “The wound is deep, but it didn’t hit anything vital. I gave him two bags of fluid and his BP is stable. The biggest issue will be infection. Watch him carefully and change his dressing with the supplies I left on the table. If he develops a fever, he’ll need antibiotics. That’s something I can’t do for him.”
“I understand.” Maksim held out a hand. “Thank you, Miguel. Detectives will come by both my offices when they discover my apartment shot to shit and full of dead mobsters. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t volunteer my whereabouts.”
“I gotchu, bro.” Miguel gave his hand a quick shake and slide. “I’ll give Alex a heads up, too. But what are you going to do about Dewey Cheatam & Howe?”
“You’re a riot, Acosta.” Maksim rolled his eyes. “I’m taking a sabbatical. They’re pissed, but they want me as far away from their sterling reputation as possible until this blows over. I’ll need a new cell phone so the PD can’t ping me. I’ll text you the number.”
Miguel heaved a sigh. “You’re in a world of shit, you know.”
“I realize that.”
“It’s not even because of the little girl and the side of beef you’ve got stashed in there. It’s actually kind of refreshing to see you invested in someone other than yourself for once. But your objectivity is blown, man.”
Maksim clenched his jaw.
“You going to get your head in the game?”
He’d always been known for his shrewd sense of self-preservation, if not outright cold-bloodedness. So, it came as a shock to both of them when, rather than reassuring Miguel, he spoke words he’d only admitted to himself in the dark of night.
“You know what? I’m tired of the bullshit, Miguel. I’m forty-two years old, and the only living person who knows my birthday is my goddamn housekeeper. I’ve got two people in there who need me. For once in my life, I’m not going to turn my back on them.”
“No one’s asking you to, bro. Just be smart about it.” Miguel clapped him on the back. “In the meantime, I’ll try to figure out who’s on the take down at Central. I’ve still got buddies there.”
“No,” he snapped. “No way I’m bringing this trouble to your door. Don’t go poking the bear.”
“Yeah, but this bear and I go way back.”
Miguel gave him a jaunty salute and shouldered his duffel before stepping out into the downpour. He strolled across the parking lot like a true Oregonian — no umbrella and impervious to the rain — and climbed into a jacked up Dodge Ram.
As Maksim watched him go, he was astonished to discover the divide between him and the do-gooders at Cabrini’s justice shop was not so great as he’d once thought. Somehow, he’d forged real connections with the remarkable people who worked there, and he’d never even noticed until now.
It was astonishing to realize he had people to turn to when his back was against the wall.
Emma was reading from a tourist brochure in a sweet voice when he let himself back into the room. Every few sentences she glanced up to see if Val was stirring.
He felt a deep pang in his chest when he realized he could add two more people to the sum of his limited trust, and that one of them he’d known for less than a day.
Didn’t that just make zero sense.
9
Val
Val was walking through a desert.
No, he was trying to walk. He kept stumbling on rocks. Why were there so many rocks in a desert?
With a creeping horror, he glanced down and realized they weren’t rocks at all. He’d been stepping on bodies. They were everywhere, pile after pile of naked torsos and tangled limbs. Every single one of them was missing half their head, like cantaloupes with scooped out insides. Bone fragments gleamed in the white hot sun.
He knew his bullets were still buried there in those hollowed out skulls. They were his bullets. He needed them.
So he knelt there among the bodies and sunk his fingers deep in the soft pink and gray matter.
He woke gasping.
His chest felt like it was cracking in the jaws of a vice. His heart hammered against his sternum. He struggled up onto his elbows for better leverage to fill his lungs, but a lightning bolt of pain tore through his stomach and he collapsed with a grunt onto his pillow.
Whose pillow? The sheets didn’t smell like his. The yellowed popcorn ceiling swimming in and out of his vision wasn’t his ceiling.
Where the fuck?
“Careful, Rambo. You’ll tear your stitches.”
Val blinked the sting of sweat from his eyes, and gradually, the blurry form of a teenage girl coalesced out of the haze. She’d washed the crap off her face, but he still recognized her. Oh no.
He hid his face in his hands and groaned.
“I’ll have you know most men would be thrilled to wake up with me at their bedside.”
“Jesus, no,” was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Hurt flickered across her hazel eyes. They were pretty as anything now that her lashes weren’t so clumped with mascara that they looked like spider legs.
Before he could explain, she shrugged and held up a glass of water to his dry lips. “Baby sips,” she said. “Doctor’s orders.”
Val gritted his teeth and gingerly propped himself on one elbow. He forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls of tepid water that tasted of chlorine. It hit his stomach and sat there like an iceberg, so he pushed the glass away.
“Where are we?” he asked once he was flat on his back again.
“Nebraska.”
Val stared.
She burst into giggles. “Oh, God! Your face!” she laughed.
All things considered, she was taking a threat to her life better than most teenagers. He ass
umed most would have devolved into hysterics by now. So he decided not to strangle her just then.
“Sorry, that was just too good to pass up!” She collapsed into a chair at his bedside. “We’re still in Portland. Maks didn’t want to go far in case you bled out in the backseat.”
Val dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed hard before glancing around the room. He was finally coherent enough to inventory his surroundings.
The motel room was worn but clean, with green carpet that looked as if it hadn’t been replaced since the eighties. There were two double beds and an adjoining bathroom that was dark and empty. The lack of sunlight behind the window curtains told him it was night.
“Where’s the gun?”
She waved at a flimsy dinette table in the corner. When Val just stared at her, she sighed and retrieved the Glock he’d recovered off one of the gunmen. She passed it to him with two fingers, as if it were a venomous snake, but the cold weight against his palm immediately reassured Val.
“Where is he?” he croaked.
“He went out to get us dinner and supplies. He’s been gone a long time, though.” She chewed her bottom lip. “You don’t think he got hurt, do you?”
Alarm spurted through him and kicked his heart rate back into high gear.
Shit, was Maksim using his credit cards? Could those be tracked? Not by the mob, of that he was fairly certain. But what about the cops? Not without a warrant, right? Or was Maksim classified as a missing person? Did they need a warrant for missing persons?
He cursed.
Emma’s eyes popped wide. “Whoa! Never heard that one before. Might be my new favorite.”
“Don’t repeat it,” he felt obliged to say, though he didn’t actually give a damn. “Did you patch me up?”
“No, that was Maks’s gorgeous friend. I wouldn’t mind getting shot myself if he comes back to take care of me.”
Her face did something interesting when she smiled. Her mouth was twisted into a cocky grin, but her eyes were bright and guileless. Bambi eyes.
Val wondered if that mouthy brat armor of hers had washed down the drain with her makeup, or if she’d just taken pity on him since he was injured. Either way, he understood why Maksim had a soft spot for her. He struck Val as a guy who could use a dose of joyful noise in his life.
“Sorry I missed the guy.” He offered a weak grin.
“You’re not really, though, are you? I mean, Maks is old as sin, but he’s a catch. You should consider yourself lucky.”
Val felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline. “You think we’re… an item?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ew, nobody talks like that unless they’re in one of Maks’s old shows. And yeah, of course you’ve got a thing for him. I’ve got eyes, you know.”
“I call bullshit. You’re what, in kindergarten? Besides, you’ve only known me for a couple hours, and I spent most of that time making sure you didn’t get your ass shot off.”
“In between checking out his ass, you mean. Don’t deny it.”
Val scoffed.
Maksim Kovalenko was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Val didn’t have a type beyond male and available, but Maksim’s brand of masculinity and authority would appeal to anyone with a pulse.
That didn’t mean Val had a thing for him, though. He was a big enough dumbass without adding that particular flavor of foolishness to the mix.
Maksim was older, educated, and sophisticated. If he got shot, he’d probably bleed gold dust. The chance of him being interested in a schlub like Val was less than zero, and that was before Val had accidently strapped a target to the man’s back.
Maksim had a life and a future. Val’s only goal was to find his father’s killer and keep them all alive while doing it. It didn’t matter what happened to him after that.
He’d been crazy to think he had a chance at starting over after leaving the Corps. He was young, sure, but some shit just couldn’t be erased. He was fucked in the head. What kind of future was there for someone like him?
“I’m tired of being on my back,” he announced. “Help me sit up.”
Emma’s small hands were icy cold wrapped around his bicep. She was more hindrance than help as she struggled to haul him upright, but she appeared to take great satisfaction in fluffing his pillows and settling him back against them while he wheezed.
“You okay?” Emma waved a hand in front of his face. “Maybe you should lay back down. I will totally freak if you pass out again.”
He caught her by the wrist but remembered to be gentle when he pushed her hand away.
“I’m fine,” he said. They needed a subject change. “Why do you spend so much time at Maksim’s place, anyway? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Not really.” She fiddled with her extra long sleeves, yanking them down until only her fingertips were exposed. She waggled her fingers, and they both watched the sparkly purple decals on her nails flash in the lamplight.
“I guess it seems kind of weird. There’s not much to do there. But I like how quiet it is. My parents are drunks, so it’s a nonstop party at my place when they aren’t screaming at each other. They’re always on my case, but Maks isn’t like that. Whenever he lectures me about something it’s because he cares.”
“Ah.”
They were quiet after that. Emma turned on the television and began randomly flipping channels, never stopping for more than a minute.
Eventually, she blurted, “So you’re a real mob guy, huh?”
Val cringed. “Not by choice. I’m not Made or anything.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Being Made? It’s when you’re officially initiated into the Family. Usually, you’ve got to be Italian, sponsored by another member, and you’ve got to do a favor.”
“Like pick up their dry cleaning?” she asked sarcastically.
“Like commit murder.”
She tensed and began compulsively punching buttons on the remote. Without looking in his direction, she asked, “Did you do that?”
Val was a lot of things, but he wasn’t normally a liar. Still, there was no way he would admit the truth to this skinny, vulnerable little girl. “If I did, do you think your Maksim would have anything to do with a guy like me?” he prevaricated.
He didn’t think his attorney was a bastion of morals by any means, but the girl obviously worshipped the ground he walked on.
“Good point.” She gave up on finding anything worthwhile on T.V. and tossed the remote down in disgust. “So, you’re innocent and Maks tried to help you? And now people are after you because you aren’t playing by their rules? That’s what Maks said.”
“Then, you should trust him,” Val said simply.
“Oh, I do. But why did we have to get dragged into your mess? My parents will shit bricks once they notice I’m gone. Whenever that is.”
“I’m going to take care of you,” he promised. “You’ll be back home before you know it.”
She sneered. “No offense, but that doesn’t exactly reassure me when you’re laying there like a human colander.”
What a weird mix of sweetness and venom she was. Were all teenage girls like this? Val was an only child and his cousins, who were drastically older than him, all lived in Chicago. Considering how early he’d figured out he was gay, his experience with girls was limited.
“I wish Maks would get back,” she fretted.
“How long did you say he’s been gone?” He should have asked for specifics, but he’d still been too fuzzy headed.
“I don’t know. Uh, four hours?”
Val bolted upright. Pain caught him with a sledgehammer blow, and he curled up on his side, coughing hard.
“Hey!” Emma leaped to her feet. “I don’t think you should move around like that!”
“He’s been out there unprotected for four hours?” he wheezed.
“I think so, but—”
“I need to find him.” He threw back the blanket and had his feet on th
e grimy carpet before cool air registered on his legs. He realized he was naked. “Jesus Christ!” he yelped, scrambling under the covers. “Where the hell are my pants?”
A soft shwick drew their attention to the door. The light on the lock turned from red to green. The door swung open to reveal the tall silhouette of a man, backlit by the orange glow of parking lot lights.
Val palmed his Glock, but he checked the need to aim it when a deep voice announced, “Your pants are in the garbage where they belong.”
“Maks!” Emma leapt up and threw her arms around his neck. She wasn’t nearly tall enough to get away with it and ended up yanking him down to her level. He grabbed the doorframe to keep his balance. “What took you so long? Were you followed? We were worried!”
Maksim’s eyes met Val’s over her head, and Val found himself unaccountably flustered. He cleared his throat. “It was a dumb move, going out alone.”
“Perhaps. But I couldn’t let my princess starve, now could I?” He dropped a kiss on Emma’s shining hair and retrieved a heavy load of plastic bags he’d set outside the door. “Besides, we needed cash. I drove all the way to Wilsonville to make a withdrawal from my bank. Once I finished at the store, I drove around for another hour to make sure there was no tail before I could head back.”
“In a stolen vehicle?”
Maksim shrugged. “I obeyed all traffic laws so there would be no reason to run my plates. Besides, the license number won’t get added to the hot sheet until shift change, which happens in—” he checked his watch, “—forty-five minutes.”
“How do you know so much about stealing cars?”
“A friend of mine once made some unfortunate career choices,” he answered as he began unloading items onto the table. “It comes in handy when my public defender rotation comes up. At any rate, I ditched the car and took a cab here so it can’t be traced back to us.”
“Ohmygod, Chipotle!” Emma squealed. She tore open a paper bag with the ferocity of a T-Rex. The scent of Mexican food made Val’s stomach churn. “Did you get guac?”
“Here.” Maksim handed her two bags even as she tried to shove a burrito in her mouth. “Pajamas, toothbrush… hygiene products. Hopefully everything a young lady might need. You should wash up and get some rest after you eat. Things will look brighter in the morning.”
Murder Aforethought Page 7
