WAYWARD

MARY CALMES
 CONTENTS

One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen

A Note From the Author

Also by Mary Calmes
About the Author
Wayward
Copyright ©2023 Mary Calmes
http://marycalmes.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of
author imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.
Cover art Copyright © 2023 Reese Dante
http://reesedante.com
Cover photography: Rafa Catala
Cover model: Chema Malavia
Edit by Keren Reed Editing
Copy Edit by Brian Holliday
Beta Read by Will Parkinson
Proof Edit by Judy’s Proofreading

Created with Vellum

 DEDICATION

As usual, I have to thank my wonderful team, Keren, Brian, Will, and Judy.
They are all striving to help me be a better writer which I more than
appreciate.
 WAYWARD

Maksim Lenkov is certain he’s not a good man. His father isn’t, and since
Maks is his second in command, then certainly, he’s just as evil. The list of
sins is long, and there’s no getting around that. What’s messing him up is
that despite all that, in the midst of life and death, his only friend tells him
he’s been a blessing; law enforcement is treating him like he prevented
more bloodshed than he caused, and everyone is concerned with doing right
by him. Why? And how is Maks supposed to figure out who he is, when
everything he thought he knew is suddenly turned upside down?
It only gets weirder once he begins his new life in witness protection.
Because if he’s a guardian angel of women and children, dogs, and one
eccentric heiress, can he really be a bad man? Added into the mix is a
handsome, loyal deputy chief of police, who lives next door and thinks
Maks hangs the moon. Is it possible that living in hell never actually made
him into the devil? Perhaps it was only a wayward life, and now it’s time to
chart a new course.
 ONE

“P lease!” the man screamed.

I always wondered why people waited until they were faced
with imminent death to finally see that they were in over their
head. Like this guy. He had been warned on so many occasions, I had given
him more chances than others said I should have, and still, in each instance,
he had taken my kindness for weakness. The last time we’d met, he’d
taunted me, even spit in my face, and I took it, in front of my men, in hopes
that it was bravado in public but behind closed doors he would piss his
pants in fear and do the right thing and fall in line. It wasn’t good, or
healthy, to challenge me, and I’d made it clear he was walking the razor’s
edge by trying to move drugs in any of the many businesses owned by my
family. We didn’t allow drugs, and he was ordered to stop before it was too
late.
And now it was.
I turned away, unwilling to hear the begging and pleading anymore.
He’d been so arrogant, so absolutely unaware that he was mucking through
a minefield until he was suddenly there, in the middle, surrounded on all
sides.
Stupid. If I lived to be a thousand—which, honestly, I’d be lucky if I
made it to forty—I would never understand people without a drop of
common sense. You saw the devil right there, in front of you, but still, there
was no fear. Not until now. At the end.
I walked toward the door of the warehouse, away from the man in
shackles hanging over a drain. It was easier to wash blood and urine away
at the beginning than add it to everything else when it was over.
“Maks!” Lev Kamenov, my oldest friend, yelled at me. “What’re you
doing?”
“Let the new guys take care of it,” I said over my shoulder. “We have to
be at the house.”
There had been a time, years ago, when I had made it my mission to
watch every man I ordered killed in my father’s name, take his last breath.
My thought was, it was happening because of me, by my hand or on my
order. Any way you sliced it, I had to watch the life drain from their eyes
because they were stains on my soul. When I was in hell, I had to know
why and remember. The worst thing I could think of was being punished
and not understanding the reason.
In the car, sitting beside Lev in the back seat, it hit me that since I’d
turned eighteen and taken over the family business, my life had become a
never-ending series of inspections and checks. I watched everything and
everyone. Small wonder that I fell into bed exhausted every night, incapable
of even making it through a half-hour sitcom. My life came down to being a
watchdog. It was all I was. I made certain no one deviated from my father’s
plans and that all his ideas were seen to fruition. It had been that way since I
was fifteen, when my father first put a gun in my hand.
“Show them who you are, Maks.”
And I had.
He’d taken me with him since I was ten, and I’d seen things much
scarier than any horror movie. At eighteen, he put me in charge of keeping
the peace, and I became the one who decided when to expand, when to put
more money into a business, and when to shed blood.
It was the strangest thing, because I’d been raised Catholic and yet
everything I’d been taught in Sunday school went against all the things I
saw and did. Killing people, rendering them unidentifiable to their loved
ones, had nothing to do with God. What I did on a day-to-day basis was
such a contrast to how I’d been brought up, and I’d wondered, often, how
my mother could still kiss me and hug me and love me. And then she died
in a car bombing when I was nineteen and I’d lost her. She’d been my light,
and she was extinguished. After that, I wasn’t me anymore. It made no
sense to question anything. There was only blood when all was said and
done.
 At her funeral, when she was lowered into the ground, my heart went
into the grave with her. When my first act afterward was finding the man
who ordered the hit on my father that accidentally took her instead and
making him pay, it was clear, given what I was capable of, that whatever
she’d seen in me that had been good, was gone.
Now I operated on autopilot. I sounded right, acted right, but it was all
muscle memory and retention. I knew what to do, when to do it, and that
was what I did. And no one cared, even those closest to me, that I was dead
inside. Only my mother had ever truly known me and my heart. But there
was no time to dwell on me. I wasn’t the important one. Only the family
mattered.
“I got your father his favorite vodka,” Lev announced happily and
smiled in that way he had where his eyes glinted and his lips turned up at
the corners.
“Good,” I said, the response automatic. “He’ll be pleased.”
Because the latest deal had gone off without a hitch, everyone was
convening at my father and his second wife’s home to celebrate. They were
there to honor my brother, Pasha, who, based on his sterling reputation in
financial circles, his master’s degree in business from Wharton, and his
numerous charitable donations, had just secured a multimillion-dollar real-
estate deal with the great city of Chicago. It was another win for Pasha, and
I was truly happy for him. It also made the Lenkov family finally, truly
legitimate. At least on paper.
Not that I cared. Or more specifically, not that it affected me.
I wasn’t in charge of the legal side of the family business. I was, in fact,
mired in all the illicit pieces my brother didn’t know the first thing about.
He was so far removed from it all that he could swear to that truthfully in a
court of law. By our father’s decree, the two of us weren’t even allowed to
be seen in the same room together outside of the family compound. So
while Pasha, legally Pavel, always walked in the front door of our father’s
home, my guys and I had to take a path from the street over and walk
through lots of backyards, around pools and patio furniture, to ensure we
would, if at all possible, go unseen. Over the years, a few people who had
been invited to the house had, inadvertently or on purpose, taken photos of
me and my brother together, but they had been educated. If anyone checked
online, there were no pictures of me anywhere after the age of nineteen
when we’d buried my mother.
 Inside, away from prying eyes, I knew Pasha was always as happy to
see me as I was to see him. Outside, it was a whole other story. He couldn’t
be anywhere near me.
In the beginning, when I was younger, fighting for my reputation and
standing, it had bugged me that Pasha was the golden boy and I was the
outcast. But the older I got, the more I understood the hypocrisy for what it
really was and embraced my role. Because yes, my father held up Pasha—
and my stepsister, Galina—for the world to see, but it was me, baptized
Maksim Oleg Lenkov, he shared his secrets with and advised and had put in
charge of the real family business, the one that powered all the rest.
And while I knew that my father hoped to eventually turn the family
interests into a hundred percent legal enterprise, at present there was no way
that was happening without the money and power that came from working
outside the law. It was a catch-22 that was difficult to maneuver, and I knew
that at some point there would have to be a reckoning. There was an old
saying I never forgot about eating with wolves and then having to howl
among them.
At the moment, though, things could continue as they had been: Pasha
could eventually be a senator—or more—and I dealt brutally with anyone
who opposed our upward climb through the criminal underworld.
My brother and I were two sides of the same coin, each with our circles
of influence, and because of that, people tended to reach out to one or the
other of us when they needed help. When my phone rang right after I
arrived at the palatial house in the Gold Coast, I retreated into my father’s
study to take the call from my cousin Nara. Both she and her brother,
Vanya, were supposed to be here at the party to celebrate Pasha’s success
with the rest of us.
“I can barely hear you over the—Nara, where the hell are you?” I
barked, annoyed that she hadn’t been considerate enough to go someplace
quiet to call me.
“I’m in a condo downtown close to the Four Seasons,” she practically
yelled into the phone, the techno beat of the music behind her still nearly
drowning her out. “Vanya’s here because he forgot Pasha’s party was
tonight.”
Or more likely, her brother was, as usual, too fucked up to remember.
Once Ivan Krupin, Vanya to his friends and family, had discovered alcohol,
and then drugs five years ago, finally settling on heroin being his favorite of
all, nothing was ever as important again. “And so? Are you still coming?
Do you need me to send a car for you or—”
“When I got here, he was trashed already,” she rushed out, her voice
catching on a sob, “and when I tried to get him to leave with me, some guys
pulled him away and dragged him into a bedroom.”
Fuck.
“I tried to get in there, but they locked the door. What am I supposed to
do? I don’t know what to do!” she said, her voice shrill and rising.
“Where the hell is Alexei? You have a bodyguard for a reason, and he
—”
“I don’t know where he is. He’s the one who knew where Vanya was,
and he drove me over here, but he made me wait in the car while he went
up.”
That should have been fine. Dinara Krupin—Nara—wasn’t a high-
profile fashionista influencer like my stepsister. She didn’t need two
bodyguards. It had never been necessary before. Just the one should’ve
been enough to keep her out of harm’s way.
“I don’t know what happened, but he never came back, so I finally
parked the car and went in to look for him.”
“And someone directed you to the party once you were in the hotel.”
“Yeah. There were a couple of guys in the lobby.”
“Did they go up with you?”
“They did. They said they didn’t want me to get lost. Everyone’s been
so helpful.”
Of course they were.
This was just getting worse and worse. Whoever was holding Vanya had
lain in wait for the man’s little sister. The situation was becoming more
sinister and premeditated by the second.
“Have you tried calling Alexei?”
“Yeah, but his phone keeps going to voice mail, and I’ve looked all over
and asked everyone if they’ve seen him, but nobody has, and I can’t find
him anywhere.”
Jesus.
Her breath hitched. “You don’t think that—”
“No, I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, trying to sound hopeful, soothing her,
keeping my voice calm, level, even as I put her on speaker so I could text
Nikolai—Niko—Ochagavya, one of the men who worked for me, to go get
the Mercedes-Benz GLS-Class parked a street over and bring it around
front. “But I have to ask, did you tell whoever grabbed Vanya who you
are?”
“Yeah, I did, but they laughed at me.”
I felt her words in the pit of my stomach like ice. If the name of the
Krupin family, which everyone knew was directly related to the Lenkovs,
didn’t scare you at all, then you were either from out of town or looking for
a fight.
“Do you think Alexei got hurt?” she asked again.
He was either dead or had led Nara like a lamb to the slaughter.
“Absolutely not,” I lied, because either way, Alexei’s life was over.
“There are men by the doors, Maks, and they won’t help me find Vanya.
I know they locked the doors behind me when I came in, and I’m getting a
little freaked out.”
“I’m sure they have general orders not to move,” I assured her, wanting
her to remain composed while I thought fast, needing a lifeline for my
cousin. “So is there anyone you know at the party? Who invited you?” I
asked, taking her off speaker and heading toward the door of the office.
She was silent a moment, and all I heard was the driving beat of the
music.
“Dinara,” I almost yelled, using her full name to get her attention. “Who
the hell’s party is it?”
“It’s Burian Petrov’s,” she confessed in a rush, her breath catching.
I didn’t even try and stifle my growl, beside myself with how stupid she
had been to even walk through the door. The man was an animal, and
everyone knew it. “Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you and
Vanya be anywhere near Petrov?” I railed at her. “You know his family and
ours—”
“He gives Vanya drugs, Maks! Why the hell do you think?”
Yes. Easy answer. Drugs. “I need you out of there right now. Just run to
the—”
“Absolutely not. I refuse to leave Vanya here with—”
“I’m leaving now. I’ll get him,” I promised, hoping I could make good
on my words. God knew what Burian Petrov was doing to Vanya. No doubt
he’d been building up trust with my junkie cousin for months, and now, on
Pasha’s big night, had sprung the trap to do something to humiliate the
golden son of Grigory Lenkov by attacking his cousin. Vanya was an easy
target and had been in the news many times before for being drunk and
disorderly, his debauchery legendary in the Chicago tabloids. Fortunately,
no one could prove the trade of sex for drugs, or that would have made the
headlines as well.
I felt the bile rise in my throat thinking that whatever they were
inflicting on Vanya, and would soon be doing to Nara as well, had nothing
to do with either of them and everything to do with soiling Pasha’s name.
“Listen, you can’t stay there—” I choked out, nearly gagging at the
thought of my tiny pixie of a cousin, who’d just turned twenty-one, being
there alone with predators and no one to protect her. “Please, Nara. I’ll take
care of it.”
Her whimper made my chest tighten. “He’s my brother, Maks. Just
hurry.”
When she hung up, I had the immediate urge to hurl my phone across
the room into the fireplace, but I squashed that down, squeezed my phone
tight instead, and bolted for the door.
In all of my father’s eleven-thousand-square-feet limestone mansion,
the only place no one dared walk into was Grigory Lenkov’s study. One
never knew who would be in there, who the old man would be on the phone
with, or who might have walked in and had to be carried out the side door.
A moment ago, insulated in my father’s den, I’d been alone, but as soon as I
opened the door and strode out into the enormous living room, I was
swarmed by people wanting to congratulate me on the good fortune of my
family. I understood the reason for the toasts and kudos—the multimillion-
dollar high-rise was our first large-scale contract with the city planner’s
office, and it was my brother’s reputation as a developer, as well as the side
deal to pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into youth facilities and
homeless shelters, that tipped the scale in our favor. Everyone in the family,
both close and extended, friends and acquaintances, was there to join in the
celebration of Pasha’s success.
I tried to be gracious. I smiled and thanked everyone but didn’t stop,
kept moving like a shark, forward, until I reached the men on the other side
of the room, standing near one of the nine working fireplaces in the
mansion. My father was there, holding court with Pasha, accepting
congratulations from people offering kind words about his brilliant son and
how proud he must be and how bright the future was.
 Pasha glanced at me and then gestured for me to go to him, seeing me
so seldom lately and missing the companionship of the one person he
shared every experience with growing up. He wanted to talk, to catch up,
and so did I. It would be nice to just sit and talk like we used to. We were
only separated by a year, me younger, Pasha older. As a result, Pasha didn’t
trust anyone like he did me, and I was the same. And I could see on Pasha’s
face, and in the furrow of his brows and the press of his lips together, that
he wanted to speak to me.
I didn’t have time.
Shaking my head, tapping the face of my Bulgari Octo Finissimo watch
in rose gold he’d bought me for Christmas, he understood that I wasn’t on
my schedule but someone else’s.
“Maksim,” my father called to me, sounding joyful, reaching out his
hand, clearly wanting me to join them.
I tipped my head at Pasha, knowing my brother would tell him I had
somewhere to be.
And that was all that was needed to get the spotlight off me and instead
back on Pasha and my father. That allowed me to continue on toward the
man standing with six others near the French doors that led to the back
patio and beyond, to the now dormant manicured English garden that was
my stepmother’s pride and joy. The only thing Irina Lenkov loved more
was her daughter, Galina.
“Lev.”
Lev Kamenov, my right-hand man, extricated himself quickly and
moved to my side.
“It’s Vanya.”
He gave me a pained look, the resignation all over his face. “Your
cousin is trash, Maks. You need to—”
“He’s at a party at Burian’s place in that apartment he just bought on the
fiftieth floor of the new—you know the one,” I said irritably, already
heading across the room toward the large closet off the entrance to the
foyer, where I’d left my trench coat.
Lev caught up easily, passing me and then rounding fast, barring my
path. “How ’bout I go, and you stay here at the party.”
As if I wanted to stay at the party. “I’m going. Do you want to come or
not?”
 He sighed deeply. “Forgive me, I forgot who I was talking to. I’m going
with you.”
Lev had been my best friend since childhood. His mother had left him
to play with me the day she was murdered by her estranged ex-husband,
Lev’s father. My friend had been nine at the time. Josephine, my mother, the
matriarch of our family, had insisted he live with us afterward, and no one,
not even my father, ever told her no. When I was made heir to the real
family business, Lev took his place at my side, there to keep my secrets and
bury the bodies. “Nara’s there too,” I told him. “It might get…bad.”
Lev nodded solemnly. “I’ll have some men meet—”
“No. Just ours.”
Ours meant the men Lev trusted with his life. And mine. Ours meant
ours, our men, our crew. Not my father’s men, not those with loyalty to the
family at large, but instead those who knew in explicit detail what my place
in the family was and what that meant. Those who were loyal to me and
Lev and no one else.
“Sava too,” I told Lev.
His scowl was quick and dark. “You’re expecting real trouble, then.”
“If something needs to be done, I don’t want to have to worry.”
“Good,” Lev agreed, stepping out of my way, and the two of us headed
for the door, me walking fast, him, as always, at my shoulder.
We were in the car heading across town minutes later.
Once we reached the luxury high-rise building, Lev and I were the first
to go in. We walked through the lobby, followed by Stanislav—Stas—
Loginov and Adrian Sergeev, and then Sava Chaban—who no one ever
missed because of the signature tracksuits and gold medallions he insisted
on wearing. He always said that if he looked like the ridiculous stereotype
of a Russian gangster, then no one would ever think he was actually
dangerous. Those of us who really knew him were always surprised by how
many people fell for the ruse, thinking that the heavyset, easygoing, hard-
drinking man was not actually an extremely dangerous ex-FSB operative. It
was also fascinating how many people never bothered to search Sava,
thinking there was no way he could be hiding much in the tracksuit. I
myself was always amazed at the number of knives that could be hidden in
velour.
We never went up in the same elevator—that was only for movie
gangsters—so when we reached the right floor, as usual, we all got off
different elevators. Lev hit the scrambler in his pocket that disrupted the
video feed on the floor so no one could see which apartment we went into.
Also, no one would be able to check the stream later.
“You look like a picnic table,” Stas told Sava as they shook hands.
“What the hell, old man? Do you need me to give you my tailor’s number?”
Adrian was grimacing as if Sava in his newest tracksuit was the worst
thing he’d ever seen. “You need to move down to Boca or something.
That’s just terrible.”
“It’s Gucci,” Sava said defensively, like that made all the difference, as
we approached the door where two bodyguards stood, both dressed in black
suits.
I wasn’t surprised when one of them gave me a slight smile and held
open the door for us. There had never been a question about getting in; it
was the leaving that could prove difficult.
Inside, I immediately sent Adrian to find Nara. Sava gave me a quick
head tip, breaking off to look around and see who was there in the way of
muscle backing up Burian. Stas stayed by the door as Lev and I pushed
through the crowd to get out of the main room and find the bedrooms.
There was a full bar near the area where people were dancing, many
others were at glass tables with lines of coke spread out on them, and the
waitstaff was moving through the crowd with trays of shots, pills, and flutes
of champagne.
Once we were in the hall, after a quick check of three rooms, we
realized that men and women were being entertained by prostitutes whose
handlers kept an eye on them.
“I have never seen the appeal of having other people watch me getting
my dick sucked,” Lev grumbled, brows furrowed. “How is that fun?”
“So you’re saying, what? No orgies for you?” I teased him.
The look I got made me smile even in the horror show we found
ourselves in.
“Thank you, no,” he replied, disgusted.
“At least everyone looks legal. We won’t have to pull people out like at
Fordham’s party.”
He nodded.
Two weeks ago, an associate of my father’s had thrown a birthday party
for his son. The moment Lev and I got there, checking on things, making
sure everything was running smoothly, I’d noticed girls, some who looked
as young as fourteen, instead of women. When we started gathering them
up, Stewart, the one who was having the party, got in Lev’s face.
That was a mistake.
In seconds, he was facedown on a table being held there by a furious
Lev, who already had a switchblade in his free hand. Everyone who was
even loosely acquainted with Lev knew his temper was quick and violent. It
had always been that way. But fortunately, I was there.
“If you break him,” I said with a sigh, “his father will whine to my old
man and we’ll have to sit in his office and listen to a lecture. Do you want
that?”
Lev grunted but let the young man up who darted over behind the bar
and threw up in the sink there. I understood the reaction. Being on the
receiving end of violence from Lev was terrifying. I was lucky we were
friends.
We moved all the girls into one room, sent the men on their way, and
had vans there twenty minutes later that took them to a shelter. The Lenkov
family trafficked in many things, but human beings were not one of them.
Prostitution was not one of our many sins. That was my choice, and my
argument to my father had been that we should only sell things that couldn’t
speak. Prostitutes, those in human bondage, could turn state’s evidence and
confess to law enforcement. That could quickly turn ugly. Better to stick
with blackmail, extortion, and theft. I had crews that were so good, the
diamond couriers they jacked had no idea they were even hit until they
reached their destination. We stole everything, from entire shipments of cars
to high-end jewelry, from VX and sarin gas to medical supplies. All things
that we could turn around and sell to the highest bidder. Sometimes it was
even sold back to the people we took it from. That was my favorite. But
trafficking in people, I stood firmly, was a losing proposition. Watching so
many other families go down over the years when the men, women, and
children they hurt revealed secrets in court, made my case for me with my
father. But that wasn’t the real reason. The real reason was that I found it
vile, which my father didn’t need to know. Logic always worked better with
him. He hated any argument grounded in emotion.
Moving quickly down the hall, we reached the larger suites. The biggest
one, in the corner, was locked, as Nara had reported it would be. I was
ready to kick it in when Lev pulled a lockpick from a case in one of the
interior pockets of his overcoat and bumped me out of the way. I used the
few moments it took him to get the door open to pull my phone from the
breast pocket of my trench coat and hit Record. The knob turned in Lev’s
leather-gloved hand, and I followed him through the door.
It was, in a sense, the best-case scenario. Because yes, Vanya was on his
knees, giving one of Burian Petrov’s guys a blowjob, but he still had all his
clothes on, which meant, hopefully, that he hadn’t been raped. It had been
my overwhelming fear for Nara as well, but I had to stamp it down in order
to function.
Lifting my phone, I made sure to get everything and everyone in the
room on video, and then zoomed in on my cousin giving head.
“Oh, Maks, you like what you see, huh?” Burian chuckled savagely,
rising from where he had been sitting with his legs spread and his dick out.
“You should have been here a few minutes ago when he was drinking my
cum.”
It was supposed to be shocking. Burian had meant it to be.
I only nodded. “So he gave you head? You let him?” All this was for the
benefit of the video I was shooting.
“He’s a whore, isn’t he?” Burian asked loudly, tucking himself into his
pants and zipping up his fly, his laughter grating, as was that of the other
men in the room, who joined him.
“He’s a junkie you’re taking advantage of,” I said with a shrug as Lev
walked over to Vanya and pulled him off the guy’s dick. He then shoved
him down so he fell backward in a loose sprawl.
It took Vanya a moment to focus, wiping his mouth on the back of his
hand before squinting up. “Lev?”
“You need a leash,” my friend growled, hauling him to his feet and
walking him over to me.
Vanya immediately started to shake. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes
filling fast.
I grunted before turning back to Burian. “Since I got what I came for,
we’ll just go now, yes?”
“Oh no, that wasn’t the deal I made with Vanya,” Burian replied,
sneering at me. “Your cousin agreed to take care of all of us all night along,
and we certainly haven’t been paid in full for what he already put in his
veins.”
I was silent, taking the pulse of the room, seeing guys there Burian
wanted to impress, the firstborn sons of men he knew and did business with.
 When I exhaled a deep breath, calming, figuring out what to do, giving
Lev a trace of a smile, he swore under his breath.
“You can shoot somebody next time,” I promised my best friend.
“That’s what you always say,” he groused, sounding bored.
I saw a ghost of concern cross Burian’s blunt features, but it was gone
fast as his bravado returned. “You can’t take your cousin home yet, Maks.
I’ve got guys in the other room just waiting to tear up that ass.”
I grunted, then told Lev, “Get Stas in here.”
Lev pulled his phone from the breast pocket of his Armani trench coat,
which I’d bought him for his birthday two months prior.
“Maks,” Burian prodded, closing in on me, his voice rising
involuntarily. “I don’t know what you think you’re—”
“I’m sending this to your father,” I replied flatly, coolly, eyes flicking to
Burian’s face for a moment and then back to my phone.
“No, you don’t get it,” he retorted, nearly spitting with resentment and
anger, his frustration palpable. “I’m sending the video of Vanya sucking my
dick to your father and Pasha so that if your fuckin’ brother thinks he can
keep his whole prince-of-the-city act going—”
“So what? My cousin is a junkie whore,” I said, squinting at him.
“Everyone knows that. But does your father, or his,” I began matter-of-
factly, pointing at the guy with his dick still hanging out, “or his,” I went
on, indicating one man after another, “or his, know that having him suck
your dicks is what you’re dying for? Do your fathers know you like cock?”
The silence in the room was so pronounced that the driving beat of the
music from the other room, muted through the door, was thundering.
They had all been smug and callous when I walked in, but now,
suddenly, fear had replaced everything else. Vanya being the evening
entertainment instead of all the female prostitutes they had there was a
problem. The Russian mob was not accepting of homosexuality, and that
was something everyone knew.
The look on Burian’s face was priceless. It was one thing to be fucking
women, but a whole other thing to have a man even sucking your dick. I
had never understood the hypocrisy of that, or the difference.
Lev snorted derisively, which turned Burian’s attention to him.
“You think this is funny?” he snarled at Lev.
“I bet there’s no one in the other room waiting to tear up his ass,” Lev
scoffed, one thick golden eyebrow lifting rakishly. “It’s all you guys
wanting a piece of the boy. Huh, Burian?” he drawled, the condescension
thick in his voice. Before the other man could even respond, Lev turned
away from him as if he were nothing, of no consequence, no threat
whatsoever, and playfully waved at me until I moved the phone from where
it was trained on Burian’s stunned, now pale face, to a wickedly leering
Lev. “Your son likes to fuck boys, Mr. Petrov, did you know?”
The guy Vanya had been sucking off finally yanked up his pants, zipped
up his fly, and started begging me to delete the video.
“Shut up!” Burian shrieked at him.
“My father can’t see that,” another guy almost whimpered.
“My brother, my father—” One of the men in the back gasped. “They
can’t ever—”
“Burian, you didn’t say anything about your father watching us get—”
“Shut up!” he screamed as I began uploading the video to the cloud.
“Lev, go see if there’s anyone in the other room waiting for Vanya,
because if there’s not, part two of this video is about to get even better. Mr.
Petrov is going to have an aneurysm.”
“He’s gonna shit, is what he’s gonna do,” Lev said cheekily. “I’ll bet
you his father cuts off his dick.”
“I refuse that bet since we both know that’s exactly how it will go
down.”
Lev was laughing as he swaggered by Burian to check the other room.
Interesting to watch the others move for him, like Moses with the Red Sea,
no one trying to stop him, just making way.
“It’s your move,” I told Burian, my tone sharp, cutting. “I’m tired of
you going after my family, so if you want to do this, I’m ready. Because
Pasha can plead ignorance and separate himself from Vanya, no problem,” I
continued, sounding almost bored, “or even embrace Vanya and help him to
beat his addiction. But you? I know your father. He’s just like mine, and we
know their definition of a man doesn’t include Vanya sucking your dick.”
Burian closed the space between us. When we were nose to nose, he
said, “You think your fuckin’ family is so much better than mine, but it’s
not.”
“No,” I agreed. “We are all the same kind of filth. The difference is that
you’re still small-time with the gambling and the loan-sharking, with the
prostitution and the drugs. My family, because we’re bigger, more
diversified, has other interests and does things on a much larger scale than
you and yours can even dream of.”
“You’re a piece of shit, Maks.”
“That doesn’t change the narrative here in the least.”
“Guess what,” Lev announced cheerfully, stepping in beside me,
“there’s nobody fuckin’ back there in the room with the big-ass king-size
bed.” He cackled. “Make sure you get that on the motherfuckin’ recording,
because we both know that’s where Vanya was going next.”
I forced myself to chuckle. “Oh, Burian, what will your father say?”
Burian snarled and took several steps back before lifting his hand to
point at me. “You think I’m going to let you or your whore cousin or his
sweet little piece of ass of a sister out of here? I’ve got ten fuckin’ guys out
—”
“Hey,” Sava said loudly as he strolled into the room, smoking a cigar
and slamming the door behind him.
Everyone but me and Lev recoiled as they saw the splatter of blood on
his white undershirt.
“What’s happening in here?” Sava asked Lev.
“Not much. What’s happening out there?” Lev replied playfully as Sava
reached him.
“I found Alexei in a closet behind the barbecue enclosure out on the
patio,” he said solemnly before looking at me. “He was trying to do the
right thing and protect Nara, but they jumped him. He took two in the
chest.”
“The guys who did it, they told you?” Lev asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re lying,” Burian snarled at him. “No one said—”
“But they did,” Sava assured him, pulling a Ziploc bag out of his left
pocket and unrolling it with a flip of his hand so everyone could see the
bloody tongues and various fingers. “They talked a lot when they still
could.”
The chorus of gagging was instant, and one of the guys standing closest
to the couch jerked to his left and threw up.
“You went and got that baggie from the kitchen, didn’t you?” Lev asked
him, shaking his head. “That’s disgusting. What’d you do with that stuff
before, just left it on the counter while you searched the drawers?”
“Yeah,” Sava confirmed. “Lots of DNA all over.”
 “I’m gonna barf,” Vanya warned them, unsteady on his feet.
“Go out the door and down the hall,” I snapped at him, glowering,
having passed the bathroom on my way to the bedroom with Lev.
“I’ll take him,” Sava said, and smiled at the younger man. “You’re a
pain in the ass, kid, and I see rehab very soon in your future.”
“It never works.”
“That’s because you gotta put in the effort to really change,” the older
man stressed to him.
As Sava and Vanya went out, Stas stuck his head in the room, glanced
around, and found me. “Adrian’s got Nara, so we’re good to go. I don’t
wanna be here when the police show up to bust Petrov for killing his own
guys and leaving them next to the barbecue.”
One of the men behind Burian gasped. “Oh shit.”
“Plus, Sava left traces of blood all over the kitchen.”
“That’s so gross,” Lev grumbled.
Stas nodded. “Oh, you have no idea. It’s a mess in there and nobody’s in
there, so they haven’t noticed. Gonna be hard to explain.”
Lev gave an exaggerated nod. “No doubt.”
“So I’m gonna carry Alexei down the freight elevator,” Stas continued.
“I already talked to a couple of guys, and we’re covered.”
“You got someone coming to get him?”
“Yeah, the place over on Montrose, they’re sending people now,” he
said, ducking out of the room.
“Holy fuck,” rasped the guy who had been getting head when we
walked in.
I was always thorough, as were the men who worked for me. Normally,
when we visited people, we went with latex gloves and booties on our
shoes, but this, a big sex and drug party, the forensics would be a mess.
Good luck finding any trace of us, me and my men, in the sea of DNA in
the suite.
“I’m bored now,” Lev muttered, going for the door. “This was not what
I was expecting.” Halfway there he stopped and looked at me. “Do you
know how many guns I have on me at the moment? I could’ve killed all
these assholes ’cause as far as I can tell, none of them are strapped, but now,
with you and your fuckin’ phone”—he shook his head, irritated—“it’s a
waste of my goddamn night.” He walked to the door and hurled it open
before disappearing, leaving me alone in the room with twelve men.
 “So.” I sighed, looking Burian in the eye. “You stay away from my
family, I’ll stay away from yours. You show no one your video, mine stays
secret as well. Do we have a deal?”
It seemed like Burian was in shock.
“And I know you and your guys were behind the robberies last month at
a couple of our clubs and that you tried to bullshit and blackmail some of
our distributors. I’m telling you now—find some other family to harass, or
the next time I see you will go much differently.”
Burian tried to hold my gaze but ended up unable to, glancing away
quickly. I knew why, had been told by a lot of people: my eyes looked dead.
They held no mirth, no spark, no warmth. I had, my uncle Leonid always
told me, the eyes of a shark, ready to deal out death without any hesitancy
or sentiment. I had no qualms about taking life, and there was no missing
that fact. My uncle, of course, loved that about me. My mother had always
said it wasn’t true.
Burian shuddered involuntarily.
“You should get rid of the bodies,” I cautioned him. “I mean, I’m
covered”—I showed him, wiggling my fingers inside my leather gloves
—“but you fuckers have your prints everywhere in here.”
Lots of noise then, guys yelling at Burian.
“And again, I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to hear that
anyone else has either.”
I turned my back on him and walked out, giving him easy access. If he
wanted, he could have shot me or come at me with a knife, but I knew he
wouldn’t, too much of a coward. The fact that I reached the doorway, went
through, and closed it behind me without incident let me know that I had
put Burian Petrov right where I wanted him—far away from my family.
 TWO

A n hour later, I sat beside Vanya in the waiting area of the New Life
Drug and Rehabilitation Center on Lakeshore Drive. I was filling out
admittance forms for him and his plus-one. It was understood that
some of the people checking into suites at the very expensive, very private,
upscale facility would not be doing so alone. It was also understood that no
one outside of the staff and the person paying would ever know who was a
patient there and who was there to protect said patient.
I sent Nara with Lev to Vanya’s apartment so she could pack a bag for
her brother. It gave her something constructive to do instead of crying. Stas
and Adrian went with them and were given the tedious task of searching the
tiny one-bedroom flat from top to bottom for any drugs or drug
paraphernalia. No old mirrors with coke residue on them would be allowed
to remain, nothing hidden inside the toilet lid or stuffed in the back of the
freezer or behind the drawers in the desk. If it was there, between the two of
them, they’d find it. I even wanted the pot gone, which bummed Lev out.
He said he’d keep any marijuana for his private use, but when I pointed out
that it could be laced with anything—this was Vanya we were talking about,
after all—Lev agreed that Stas should flush anything he found. Better to err
on the side of caution.
I sent Sava to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Krupin, because for some
unfathomable reason that I never understood, he was really good with
parents. He promised Vanya in the car that he’d bring his folks to see him in
a couple of weeks once the initial withdrawal was over. They shouldn’t see
him before then, and Vanya agreed. Not that the clinic would have allowed
that anyway. But he knew the drill; he’d been through it before.
“You’re not going to show that video to my father, are you?” Vanya
asked me, his voice shaky now as he was coming down, scratching at his
face absently and practically vibrating in his chair. “I mean, he’ll be—”
“No, idiot,” I told him, putting myself down as the emergency contact
on the form, along with his father. “No one’s ever going to know what went
on tonight except for all those men who saw you and me and my guys and,
of course, your baby sister,” I finished sarcastically. “But don’t worry, that’s
not a lot of people to witness the lowest point of your life.”
He groaned.
“I swear to God, if anything had happened to her…” I trailed off,
suddenly too angry to speak, my throat going dry just thinking, again, of all
the possibilities.
“I know,” he whined, raking his fingers roughly through short blond
hair, pulling hard, unable to help himself. “Don’t you think I know?”
“You look like shit,” I said, clipping my words. “You’ve got sores on
your face again and—she could have been raped!” I yelled at him, getting
up and pacing, unable to not come back to Nara over and over again. “You
could have been raped too, you stupid fucking idiot!”
Vanya started to cry then, and when I saw the tears, it hit me suddenly
that we were exactly the same age. It didn’t feel like it because I’d always
felt more like his parent than peer, especially in that moment, but
nevertheless, we were both thirty years old. It was wild because I always
thought of him as sixteen.
I walked back up to the window and tapped gently. The woman there, in
pale-blue scrubs and oversize tortoiseshell glasses, slid the glass open and
took the clipboard and pen from me.
“Do you have a box of tissues?”
“Of course,” she said kindly, and passed me the one on her desk.
I brought Vanya the box and then returned to the counter, waiting to
hear if she had any questions, since she wasn’t the same woman who’d
checked us in the last time. This one was younger, with freckles and long,
curly blond hair piled up in a loose bun with a decorative hair fork on top of
her head.
“And are you the responsible party, Mr. Lenkov?”
“I am.”
 She glanced over the information before her head snapped up and she
met my gaze. “There’s no insurance on this?”
“No, ma’am,” I said, pulling out my wallet and passing her my black
American Express card. “No insurance.”
She looked at the card in her hand and then back up at me.
“You don’t take that?”
“No, we take this. I just…” She seemed to think it over, biting her
bottom lip.
“You’re hesitant to let me know that you’re going to charge the cost of a
luxury automobile on my card, between my cousin’s treatment and his
guest.”
“Yes,” she said, clearly relieved, as evidenced by her sharp exhale and
the drop of her shoulders. “That’s it precisely.”
I nodded tiredly. “I know.”
Her gaze softened. “You’ve done this before.” My silent lift of brows
prompted her to reach through the window and cover my hand with hers.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Third time’s the charm, right? Isn’t that what they say?”
Her mouth fell open in surprise.
“But yes, I know how much it is, and I’m good for it.”
“Of course,” she agreed quickly.
I signed the receipt, and then, just like the two times before, Vanya and I
went through a heavy steel door that had to be unlocked before we could
proceed. Once on the other side, we were greeted by another woman, older,
her dark-tanned skin luminous in the warm, muted glow of the overhead
lights. It was like being welcomed into someone’s home, as there were no
stark fluorescent fixtures at New Life, nor basic linoleum or vinyl flooring.
Their stylish imported fixtures and stunning decor had been featured in
interior design magazines, and the sheet tile flooring was made to look like
hardwood. In the waiting room that resembled the reception area of a spa or
country club, we were directed to take a seat on either the overstuffed couch
strewn with throw pillows or on one of the many tufted leather chairs.
“I’ll go and get his intake counselor, and the two of us will be back in
just a bit to get him settled in.”
“Take your time. We know it’s late.”
Instantly, there came a sweet smile from the maternal-looking woman
before she thanked me in a calm, reassuring tone.
 “Everyone’s so chill here,” Vanya told me. “It always freaks me out.”
I had nothing to say to him. The fact that Vanya could comment on this
as if another cycle of rehab was normal made me bristle with irritation. But
since that wouldn’t help at all, I stayed quiet. I felt bad about yelling at him
earlier. It was useless to get mad at him; anger didn’t move him at all.
Neither did encouragement or tenderness. The only thing Vanya truly cared
about was his next fix. Addiction was a disease. You didn’t rage at sick
people; you got them help. So again, that was what I was doing.
After several minutes, Vanya cleared his throat. “You must’ve been
horrified when you saw me on my knees in that room,” he whispered,
having trouble getting out the words.
I exhaled sharply. “I was horrified that the drugs would make you
degrade yourself like that,” I said hoarsely, trying to keep the anger out of
my voice. I hated how weak he was. How his will was nonexistent, how
very frail and lacking in self-worth he had become with every passing year.
In the beginning, when Vanya’s addictions were new, I had been full of
sympathy, ready, willing, and able to help. Now, as I prepared to say the
same words to a new counselor and hear, again, about the importance of
sticking with a program and about sponsors and meetings…try as I might, I
couldn’t dredge up even the smallest amount of compassion.
The idea that anything or anyone would ever, could ever, have the kind
of control over me that drugs had over Vanya was simply too alien to
contemplate. It was, in fact, the worst thing I could imagine until tonight.
Now, thinking of all the horrors that could have befallen Vanya’s sweet little
sister was the new nightmare.
“Maks?”
“It killed me to know that you allowed your situation to impact Nara.
You knew she was there, and you knew she’d never leave you.”
“I—”
“You did. You knew. And you would have never forgiven yourself if
something happened that couldn’t be undone, but the blowjobs you were
giving? I don’t give a crap about that.”
Vanya was quiet for a moment and then slowly, like my words had just
sunk into his brain, looked up at me. “What?”
“If you’re gay, be gay. If you’re bi or whatever else, I couldn’t care less
because it has zero to do with me. What I do care about is that suddenly
you’re dragging innocent people into the dangerous end of the pool with
you. It used to be we’d just have to deal with the fallout, with finding you
passed out in some hotel room somewhere, but now I’m getting calls from
your sister, and she’s following you around to try and keep you safe, and—”
I noticed then that Vanya was staring at me like I’d grown another head, and
the thought came fast that my cousin wasn’t taking me, or the situation we
found themselves in, seriously. “Are you listening to me?”
“I am.”
“Because it doesn’t look like you’re listening or that you give a shit.”
“I do. I really do, I swear to God,” he urged plaintively, sounding
serious and truthful, trying to get me to hear him. “I wanna change.”
“Then fix yourself, Vanya,” I stressed, wishing I could simply will my
cousin into submission or shake him hard enough and long enough to imbue
him with some common sense. I mean, think about it: I’m the one getting
shot at. I’m the one people try and kill, not you, so if I outlive you, how
utterly ridiculous is that going to be?”
Vanya nodded as though in a trance.
“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” I yelled, close to tearing
his head off, so sick of the festering weakness in him, I could puke.
“I just… In the room with Burian and the others, you made it sound
like…”
“What? What did I make it sound like?”
“You made it sound like you cared that I’m gay!” he shouted back,
leaping up and pacing the room before rounding on me. “You made it sound
like you gave a shit about that, but you never have before so—”
“No,” I said flatly, staring holes through him. “I don’t care.”
“Then what the fuck was all that?” He was almost in tears and had to
suck in his breath to beat back the deluge, and I saw it then, how hard he
was fighting to keep himself together.
“That was about Burian Petrov’s father.” I took a breath, calming
quickly, and Vanya followed my lead, taking a breath and sinking down into
the chair across from me, a large coffee table separating us. “I’ve met the
man, and along with being a racist and misogynist, he’s a homophobic prick
as well.”
Vanya remained quiet, just staring at me.
“You know as well as I do that in our family—in the business our
family’s in—there’s a specific definition of a man.”
“Yes,” he agreed quietly.
 All my life I’d been told by my father and uncles and all their friends
not to be soft, that kindness was weakness, that men didn’t stand or sit or
speak in certain ways, and it all translated to the same thing, to the same
warning: don’t be gay. There was a way men were supposed to be,
supposed to act, and it was not gentle, not forgiving, only black and white,
life and death. Anything less than stoicism created a liability they couldn’t
allow.
“It’s horrible,” I told Vanya. “I hear them say the same things to their
grandchildren that they said to me and you and Pasha when we were
young.”
Vanya was hugging himself, his eyes filling with tears.
“So I know what to say to put the fear of God into Burian about his
father because my father—and yours—are the same.”
“Yes,” Vanya agreed, wiping at his eyes before they overflowed. “But at
least ours aren’t violent.”
I clenched my jaw and looked away, and Vanya shivered beside me.
“Did your father beat—”
“I’m not going to discuss my father with you,” I assured him, which I
knew answered the question regardless. He hadn’t hit me in front of my
mother, not ever, and never on the face. Anything she could see, he
wouldn’t do. Her wrath was not to be taken lightly. And I could have told. I
could’ve lifted my shirt, shown her the bruises, but I wasn’t stupid. It was
his world; we were all just living in it. He would’ve never let her leave and
take me and my siblings; that could never be allowed to happen. So instead,
I received her hugs and kisses and his fists. It had been, at the time, a
reasonable arrangement.
“Maks, I didn’t mean to—”
“Just realize that what I said to Burian was what I knew would scare
him the most.”
“And you make it your business to know what that is, don’t you.”
Of course I did. It was yet another reason why people always thought
twice about crossing me; they knew they’d be crucified.
Vanya said, “I remember when Nara tried to explain it to me after she
took all her psychology classes.” His tone and smile were bittersweet, his
hand on my knee. “She said, ‘Vanya, all the hypermasculinity in our family
that we all grew up around is so very toxic.’”
 “Like you didn’t know that already,” I scoffed, head back, sighing
deeply.
“She said it’s a death sentence for any boy being raised in that
environment.”
And it was for some.
“You know,” Vanya went on, “even if you’re not gay…even simply
being kind, like Pasha is, means there’s no place for him in your father’s
world.”
I nodded.
“That’s why even though he was supposed to take over for your father
—he’s the oldest, after all—you did instead.”
“I still went to college and—”
“At night,” Vanya snapped. “Don’t bullshit me. You had scholarships.
Between your grades and football, you could have gone away. Everything
could have been different.”
“It was a long time ago,” I said dismissively. “Why’re you bringing up
ancient history?”
“You always talk about me being weak, but so is Pasha.”
“Pasha is not a junkie whore,” I retorted, cutting deep.
“Yeah, no. I know,” Vanya agreed with a shrug, “but we both know
Pasha couldn’t handle the blood. We all heard the story about the
racehorse.”
“Pasha and I have different strengths.”
“So the breeder was out of money, and they’d made the poor choice of
selling the stud rights, a year earlier, to your father.”
I leaned forward, head in my hands. “We both know what happened.
Why are you recounting it?”
“Basically, at that point, because he was insured, the horse was worth
more money dead than alive,” Vanya continued, ignoring me.
“Just—”
“What was it? Forty million or something?”
“Could you not—”
“You and Pasha show up to check on your father’s latest crazy, though
legitimate, business venture the day before he’s supposed to collect on his
first stud fee, and they’ve got this thoroughbred champion tied to a fence
and these guys ready to break its leg, which will effectively end its life.”
“Why are you—”
 “Because Pasha wanted to let them go,” he reminded me. “And you
thought, if they’ll do it to one horse, a great champion, they’ll do it to foals
and mares and all those horses no one ever sees. They’ll hurt the most
vulnerable.”
I still remembered the horse’s wild, terrified eyes, and the utter terror I
could see it was experiencing had enraged me. “Why is this important,
Vanya?”
“Because it shows how you are and how you work, and no one can
really see it.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“To your father, it looked like you went there with only the stud rights
and came home with a horse farm in New York that now allows him to
show up at Churchill Downs every year and rub shoulders with the rich and
famous. But I know, because Pasha told me, that you had the guy who
owned the horse farm sign it all over to your family, and then you put him
on his knees and shot him execution-style in the back of the head.”
“People who hurt animals deserve what they get.”
“Isn’t a man’s life worth more than a horse’s?”
“I think it depends on the man, and why are we talking about—”
“It’s what you do, Maks! You move in the shadows, with your father
and all the rest of those fucks thinking you’re the devil incarnate, but
you’ve really just invented this darkness because you’re a good man where
it counts,” he murmured, smiling at me. “You protect horses and your
junkie whore cousin.”
“Knock it off.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got too much blood on my hands to ever be called a good man.”
“I would argue that to keep the many safe, you have killed very few.”
I didn’t want to argue with him; it was far too late. “Don’t go spreading
it around that I’m soft, right? That will not be good for business.”
“Neither would your father or anyone else knowing you’re gay.”
I stood, walked around the coffee table, and took a seat next to my
cousin, holding his gaze.
“I know you told me in confidence,” Vanya said softly, “and I would
never remind you about it, except that it’s gotta be eating you up inside, and
if you ever need someone to talk to, I want you to know I’m here.”
“Van—”
 “You can’t keep hiding that you’re doing good things in a bad business,
and you can’t continue living in the closet.”
“If I come clean, I’ll lose everything,” I said gruffly, the words grinding
out of me, scraping my throat. “I’d lose my family, my home, my place in
the world if anyone ever found out beyond those people I trust with my
life.”
“But shouldn’t your family be the people you—”
“You know better than that,” I said dejectedly, and I was sure that Vanya
heard at once the deep well of sadness in my voice and saw the resignation
on my face. “It’s not an option.”
Getting up, I walked to the window, looking out at the city lights and
the darkness that was Lake Michigan beyond them.
“Hey.”
I turned to look at him.
“You know it’s crazy that in our whole family, you’re the only one with
the dark hair and eyes like dedushka’s. The rest of us are all shades of
blond, except you.”
I shrugged, thinking of the grandfather I’d only ever seen pictures of.
He’d been gone for years before I was born. “Just lucky.”
“Tell me why you told me. How come I’m one of the guys you trust
with your life?”
“Because like tonight when you got confused, I wanted to make it clear
that you being gay doesn’t mean anything to me,” I rasped, needing Vanya
to hear me. “It’s the poison you put in your system that makes you do
stupid, careless things that makes me sick. I don’t want you to think I care
about who you sleep with.”
“Well, thank you for confiding in me, and just so you know, I would
never tell.”
“Even when you’re high?” I asked because I was in a foul mood.
“Maks,” he said, sounding crestfallen.
“Yeah, fine. I know that,” I said, rubbing my eyes and the bridge of my
nose.
It was enough sharing for one evening, no more soulful revelations were
necessary for bonding, and so Vanya took the opportunity to blessedly
return us to innocuous pleasantries. “What time did you get up this
morning?”
 “Right around five,” I answered, letting my head fall back gently and
bump the wall behind me. “Or maybe just a bit earlier.”
“Jesus,” he huffed out. “I’m sorry.”
“Just get better and we’ll call it even, all right?”
“I’ll really try this time.”
“It’s all I can ask for,” I said, giving him a trace of a smile.

An hour later, Vanya was safely checked into the rehabilitation center,
Nara was inside helping him set up his room, and Stas and Adrian were
briefing Eva Ganz, one of three people outside of my regular circle whom I
trusted to step in when we had to deal with delicate situations. She would be
staying here, in the suite with Vanya, as his protection. God help anyone
who tried to hurt him on her watch. The woman was deadly and dangerous
and unwavering in her loyalty to my family. Nara had liked her right away.
Waiting outside the facility for Stas and Adrian to bring the car around,
my eyes burning from exhaustion as I’d been up nearly twenty-four hours
by that time, when the sleek Lexus LX SUV slid up to the curb, I didn’t
have time to react before I saw the dark snub of a pistol trained on me by a
flat-nosed man I didn’t recognize. A thought ran through my mind that it
could be Burian trying to take revenge, but for one, that would be too quick,
and for two, Flat Nose and the other men were not familiar in the least. I
knew all of Burian’s guys, I had to. It was how I survived.
“Fuck,” I spat, raising my hands. Two men leaped from the SUV and
patted me down quickly, finding the Glock 26 holstered in my shoulder
harness.
The henchman handed my gun to Flat Nose, whose revolver was
leveled at me. “This kusok der’ma is what you carry?” the man sneered.
“Given your fancy suits and car, I expected more. My wife’s piece has more
balls.” I had never gone in for chrome or gold plating, pearl handles, or
engraved anything. I was a fan of dependability, something that fired
quickly and reliably. And God keep me from guys who had to comment on
everything. I’d much rather be taken by silent thugs. Remaining quiet, I
checked for the weak link, listening and observing, the wheels turning for
any chance of escape.
“Get in the car, Maks.” The thug gestured with the revolver.
There was no gentility as they shoved me in the back seat of the Lexus.
 The ride downtown, near the Loop, was a short, silent one, even with
three other men in the car with me, and my plan was to stay calm and try to
talk my way out of it, offer them more money not to kill me, offer them jobs
even though anyone who knew me at all could be certain that was a lie. Any
person who could turn on his or her old boss could turn on a new one just as
easily. Once a traitor, always a traitor was one of the many truths I took to
heart. Another I lived by was that the longer you were held hostage, the less
chance you had of survival. When we made a turn and the men started
talking, certain we were far enough away not to be followed, I knew I had
only one chance.
It was risky because no one had said who they were taking me to. But it
wasn’t to talk—they would have said that right off. Wherever I was going, I
would be killed. That much was obvious. They were showing me their
faces, unconcerned that I’d be able to identify them later. I was a dead man,
and I was outnumbered, and everyone had a gun, but it was better to be shot
than tortured at the hands of God knew whom. At least if I’d seen an enemy
I knew, I would have been prepared. A new player was just bad.
“You’re bein’ awfully quiet there, Maks. Lev says you love to talk, but
now you’re all fuckin’ quiet.”
It took a second for that to register, since I was absorbed with escaping.
Lev said?
My brain stuttered on the name.
Lev said?
“He promised us this would be more entertaining.”
Lev. My best friend. Lev had told them that kidnapping me would be
fun?
“Sorry?” I barely got out.
I couldn’t wrap my brain around the words. There had to be some
mistake. What the hell was happening? Lev and I had been inseparable for
as long as I could remember. I couldn’t begin to wrap my brain around
whatever this was.
“He told us you would fight, and we’d get to hurt you, and—”
We were hit then, broadside. The car spun around and around, and then
another car hit us and we flipped over. It was strange, everyone floating in
space for seconds before we hit the ground and there was glass flying
everywhere.
 Once the car came to a full stop, I saw the guy who had been in the
passenger seat was now embedded in the windshield, half of his body in the
car, the rest outside.
There was so much blood. I was covered in it. Glancing around, the
others were either dead or unconscious. I couldn’t tell which. It felt like
years went by as I sat there.
“He’s alive!” I heard Adrian yell, and then there were pops I knew was
a gun with a suppressor. I was familiar with the sound. I’d fired one enough
times myself.
I was terrified that Adrian would be killed because I was certain there
was a second car, following us, and now he and Stas would be murdered as
well.
“You said they’d kill him so we wouldn’t have to,” Adrian called out,
and all at once I was gutted. I could actually feel the air leave my lungs.
Between Lev and him…I had no idea how I could have been so wrong. And
Lev was one thing—more a brother than anything else—but I’d thought,
since my father put me in charge at eighteen, that my men and I were
friends. I’d always counted them as such.
“Just leave him in the car,” Lev answered him. “He’ll bleed out in
seconds. I can see the glass in his side.”
“It’s not enough,” Stas argued. “The old man wants to be sure.”
The old man.
My father.
I turned my head, trying to see any of them, but my left shoulder
exploded and I fell back, too weak to move, eyes staring up at the lights of
the buildings I could see out the window. There was a flash, which I knew
was someone taking a picture, proof for my father.
“You didn’t shoot him in the face, did you?” Adrian asked. “They have
to be able to identify the body.”
“No,” Lev answered. “Look. I stopped his heart, but he’ll be good in the
coffin.”
Lev had been the one. He’d leaned inside and killed me.
My best friend.
I heard them walking away, the sound of leather-soled shoes scraping
over asphalt. I was freezing, inside and out, losing blood fast. And I was in
pain, but as dramatic as it might sound, it was my soul that was bleeding the
worst. I hurt down deep.
 Years of trust and friendship, and then Lev had seen me, in pain, dying,
and made the choice to rush me to the grave with a final bullet. The
betrayal, his apathy, should have killed me right then and there.
All three of them, Lev, Adrian, and Stas, had left me to spend my final
moments alone. As the veil of darkness swallowed me, I saw them drive
away through the now fragmented windshield.
The why was thundering in my head. What happened when I wasn’t
looking? How had I failed them so badly that they would turn on me? Why
were they compelled to leave me to die?
It was quiet, so quiet. Faintly, I heard sirens, and then I was jostled hard,
shards of pain tearing through my body. My scream was barely a whisper.
“Good,” Sava said gently. “Alive is good.”
But I wasn’t sure that was true.
It was the last thought I had.
 THREE

I t was bright when I opened my eyes, but not from hospital lights. Sun
filtered in through gauzy ivory curtains.
Glancing around, I realized I’d never been in this room in my life. It
was lovely, warm, with one brown wall—the accent wall—where there was
a large gilded mirror and pictures of hunting dogs flanking it. The other
walls were more of a bisque, and the covers I was under were in various
shades of brown. No one who knew me would have thought I could even
describe those colors, but my mother was a painter and always spoke to me
about ecru, never beige or off-white. It was chartreuse or celadon, never
simply green.
Looking to my left, I saw a woman I didn’t know, but since she had
scrubs on, I was guessing she was a nurse.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. She turned from her phone at that
same time, took her right AirPod out of her ear, and smiled.
“You’re awake, dorogoi,” she greeted me. “Let me get you some water
and I’ll call him in to speak to you.”
I really needed to know whom she meant, but my voice was not
cooperating. I needed a gun, something to defend myself with, but then I
realized, I was alive for a reason. Whoever had me, hopefully wasn’t
making me well just to murder me.
She got up and left the room, and I had what felt like an hour to
contemplate my fate, but in reality, it couldn’t have been more than a couple
of minutes. When the door opened again, she came through first with a
huge tumbler like the ones from Starbucks, with a cover and a straw
sticking out. Behind her, right on her heels, was Sava.
I wasn’t as relieved as I would have normally been, since just recently
my best friend had left me to die in a crumpled car in the middle of the
road.
“Very good,” Sava greeted me, walking around the bed, carrying a
laptop. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, then took a seat in the chair
beside my bed. “This is Sherry. She’s the one who’s been taking care of
you. Lucky for us, the glass in your side hit nothing important, and the
doctor who examined you sewed you up and said you will recover well.”
I tipped my head sideways to my shoulder.
“The bullet went in and out, nothing to worry about,” he said like I
shouldn’t have even brought it up.
But it was trauma to my body that had already lost so much blood. I
wasn’t so sure of his diagnosis.
All my focus went to Sherry then as she bent, got the straw in my mouth
from the tumbler she’d carried in, and told me to sip slowly. As I did, my
throat coated with liquid, and I realized it was the best water I’d ever had in
my life.
“Speak,” I pleaded, and Sava nodded, then turned to his side and moved
one of those rolling hospital tables that fit above the bed over to me. He
placed a laptop there, opened it, and then sat me up with more tenderness
than I’d ever seen from him. Gently, he leaned me forward as Sherry set the
tumbler down I’d been drinking from before stuffing pillows behind my
back.
It didn’t hurt—I was guessing the IV in my arm was responsible for
that. What I did realize when they moved me was that I had a catheter in
me.
“We need to take that out,” I told him, and of course, he knew what I
meant.
“In a bit, just…look at this first.”
He had whatever he wanted to show me queued up already so all he had
to do was hit Play. There was a news report from eight days ago about a car
accident downtown. The fire was a surprise.
“The hell?”
“Fire is always good. Makes things final.”
It certainly did. “I’m dead?” I asked him.
 “To most. Not to Pasha. Him, I told. Your father, Galina, Lev, the
maggots you called your friends, and everyone else—to them, yes.”
“Okay,” I said, a million questions running through my head.
“First, because I know you would worry, Pasha agreed to care for
Vanya,” he said and showed me a new video. Pasha visiting Vanya in rehab,
and there was a team of reporters with him. “He’s gotten a huge popularity
bump with caring for his cousin after losing you, his brother. I understand
that he is beloved on Twitter.”
I glanced at him.
He shrugged and shook his head. “Maria, my oldest, she says this is
important.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I knew that wasn’t something you were on top
of.”
“No,” he agreed, grinning. “But so you see, Vanya will be safe, yes?”
“Yes,” I replied, sighing deeply. That, at least, was positive. It meant
that Vanya now lived under Pasha’s umbrella, which meant that he, like my
brother, was untouchable. It was smart of Pasha to do that, to make
everything public so Vanya couldn’t simply disappear.
“Your funeral was nice. Many people came.”
“Great,” I said flatly.
There was more video to watch. Shots of my father, my stepmother, and
Lev, all crying, with Pasha the only one who appeared truly broken. A
reporter spoke to Galina, who said she was leaving for Paris, that she
needed to get out of the city since it reminded her of me.
I scoffed.
“Wait,” Sava said, grinning as he pointed at the screen.
Whoever had done the report had tracked her there, in the city of lights,
at some café, where she was shown sipping champagne and laughing. As
soon as she saw the reporter, she shrieked that she was in mourning.
I glanced at Sava.
“That part is my favorite.”
“You’re a sick man,” I assured him as Sherry lifted the tumbler of water
off the end of the table and offered me some more.
“Can you hold that yourself and put it back?” she asked me.
Once I gave her a nod, she smiled and left the room, closing the door
behind her.
“Shall I tell you the story now?” Sava asked me.
 “Please.”
He huffed out a breath. “Your father was in debt up to his eyeballs to
Anton Kolashkov. Did you know?”
“No. How can that be?” That made no sense.
“He’s been expanding the legitimate side of the business so fast, he had
to take out loans because he knew there were illegal things you would not
do.”
My father and I had many discussions and meetings with others over the
years about what he thought would be beneficial to our bottom line. But
human trafficking and drugs and selling guns were not things I would
approve. Hurting those who were already corrupt, that I had no issue with.
Taking advantage of the weaknesses of powerful men was what I liked best.
But selling a child, putting a gun in their hand, or pumping them full of
drugs was a hard line for me that no one dared cross. I’d made certain to
have my own safety measures in place so that no one would ever be able to
override my vote. Or thought I had. Lev was supposed to be my most
steadfast support system. It had never even entered my mind that he would
turn on me.
“Tell me,” I prodded him.
“Your father borrowed money from Kolashkov that he was supposed to
pay back in favors and influence with Pasha.”
That made sense. Trade on something no one else had, a fully legitimate
golden goose of a son.
“Wait.” My brain felt sluggish, and it was taking me some time to
process, likely because of the drugs. “You said was supposed to? Not
anymore?”
“Even almost dead, you listen better than anyone I know,” he praised
me. “Last week, your father had Lev take out Kolashkov, both his sons, and
the others in his circle. There’s no one left to oppose him as he and Zeljko
Constantine take over the business.”
“No,” I rushed out, horrified over what he was telling me. “My father
hates Constantine. He’s a beast who sells women and children and makes
junkies of parents and—”
“It’s done,” he told me, wiping his hands together. “And your father
knew you’d never agree, and he was certain that too many of the men were
loyal only to you.”
 My father had always told me I was too close to my people. But I ate
with all of them, not only Lev, Adrian, and Stas. I gave out bonuses for all
the holidays. I checked on their spouses, parents, and children. I made
certain that everyone under me was taken care of.
“You’re saying my father had me killed?”
He reached out and took hold of my shoulder. “Yes. Lev hired men to
do it and killed the two who didn’t die in the crash. I’m sorry, moy
malchik.”
I chuckled, and he jolted in surprise. “Come on, Sava, I knew that
already. Who else would, or could, give that order?”
“But it looked like—”
“I was kidnapped by out-of-town thugs trying to make moves on the
Lenkovs.”
“Yes.”
“And then, of course, with tensions running high and the men looking to
avenge me, my father can send them after his enemies and clean up any
loose ends.”
“You saw it all?”
I grunted. “Hardly.”
“But then, how?”
“In retrospect, it’s all clear as day, the plan to get rid of me was well
thought out. That’s got my father’s fingerprints all over it.”
He was quiet for several moments. “How long did you know you were
on your father’s hit list?”
“Oh no, you’re giving me too much credit. I had no idea.”
“But…”
“That night in the car, Stas said the old man wanted to make sure I was
dead. That’s how I know.”
“Okay. Good.”
I shot him a look.
“No, not good like… Just good that you only knew then, not before.”
“Why?”
“Because if you knew the whole time, Maks, and took no precautions to
protect yourself, then you’re a fuckin’ idiot, and I never took you for one.”
He was right. “Okay, so the bottom line is that my father had me killed
because he’s gone into business with Constantine and knew I’d never
approve.”
 “Yes.”
It was the oddest thing, but the why didn’t shock me. I wasn’t
overwhelmed with sadness over the patriarchal betrayal. My father’s regard
for me—not love, never love—was conditional at best. What had broken
my heart, days ago, was Lev. I’d counted on him, held him to my heart as
closely as Pasha, only to find out he was the snake in the garden I never saw
coming. My father turning on me was logical. I was in the way, so he got
rid of me. He knew I would never make a deal with the devil that was
Constantine. It was a valid business decision to leave me bleeding to death
in a car.
“Who takes my job?” I asked, feeling cold inside, a hollowed-out husk.
“Lev,” he said simply. “He’ll become legitimate.”
How? “No, if Lev is stepping into my role, then—”
Sava scoffed. “Come now, why do you think Lev’s father killed his
mother?”
I could only stare at him.
“Maks,” he whispered. “Use your head.”
There had been rumors. Always. That Lev was my father’s bastard. The
whispers had been stamped down hundreds of times when my mother was
alive, but resurfaced after her death.
“No,” I said quickly. “If Lev were really my father’s son, my mother—”
“Josephine never knew. When your father suggested to her that your
family take in Lev after Marissa was murdered, of course your mother
agreed. She had such a big heart. Little did she know she was taking in her
husband’s bastard.”
“I thought it was my mother’s idea to take in Lev.”
He shook his head.
“So my father will what, announce that Lev is his son?”
“Yes. He already has. And he’s marrying him to Nara.”
That was smart. Our families were only distantly related. I called Vanya
and Nara my cousins, but the bloodline was thin between the Lenkovs and
the Krupins. The friendship, however, was solid and went back generations.
Having Lev marry Nara gave him instant legitimacy in the family.
“Lev hates Vanya,” I said, thinking it over. “He’ll find a way to kill him,
in secret, so Nara never knows.”
“No, not now. Not with the golden one watching over Vanya. Plus,
Vanya and his treatment and his fight are now in the news. He and Pasha
are everywhere. Lev wouldn’t dare strike at Vanya. That would be suicide.”
I exhaled deeply, relieved that Vanya would be safe. “And Nara, does
she want to marry Lev?”
Sava looked pained. “She does, Maks. You missed your best friend
romancing your cousin because your focus was on the business. You didn’t
notice he stopped fucking anything that moved.”
“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t care. Not about Lev. Not anymore. If
Nara had wanted nothing to do with him, I would have had to figure out a
way to help her. My brother and my two cousins were all I truly cared
about. But with Vanya set, Nara in love, and Pasha untouchable, I could
embrace death without worry.
“So that night I went to find Vanya—”
“Lev knew then he was going to kill you.”
“And Adrian and Stas?”
He grunted.
All of it was so calculated, so cold and indifferent. Everything had been
so normal, the same banter, the same back-and-forth. That they could talk to
me and smile, while at the same time plotting my death, was beyond my
understanding. My heart didn’t work like that.
“It’s business, Maks,” Sava reminded me.
“They were my friends,” I barely got out.
“No,” he said flatly. “I am your friend. And I, in turn, have friends.
Those who would never betray me for blood or money or standing.”
I reached for his hand, and he took mine, holding tight, smiling at me.
The tears were a surprise. “Thank you.”
“You showed me your heart when you took care of my family, Maks,
when my brother was ill and I had to return to Vladivostok those many
years ago.”
I had. He was right. My father wanted to stop paying Sava’s salary
while he was gone, but I didn’t even consider that. Sava was one of my
guys, and that wasn’t going to change just because he had a family
emergency. I’d made sure that his wife, Alisa, was paid, that her refrigerator
and cupboards were full, and that whatever her girls needed, from school
uniforms to dental checkups, were covered. I would have done no less for
any of my people.
“So it’s a debt you’re paying off,” I replied sadly.
 His eyes went cold for a moment, and I recognized the killer that he
was. “No. As I said, you showed me who you were when you stood by my
family.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
“Good,” he said, smiling again.
But then it hit me. “Sava,” I gasped, jolting, sitting up straight, the
motion sucking the air from my body and making me instantly light-
headed.
“What are you doing?” he yelled, standing up and shoving me back
against the pillows.
My vision swam, and there were lights everywhere, flashing in my face
while he yelled at me, and then there was nothing because I passed out.

When I came to a few minutes later, my eyes fluttering open, Sava was on
his phone, texting with someone.
“Over my dead body,” he muttered.
“Who are you mad at now?”
He turned to me. “Don’t do that again. You have stitches that don’t need
to be ripped, yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Scaring me is bad. I don’t like it.”
“Understood.”
“Drink some water while I tell my daughter that the Italian boy she
wants to date is out of the question.”
“I thought there was a nice…what was his name, the Jewish one, really
smart, going to MIT or something?”
“That is Noah, and he’s Elena’s boyfriend. Maria, you know, she’s
married to the nice plumber, Jacek. This is Anya who’s going to be the
death of me.”
I had to smile.
“And you know, I don’t care that he’s Italian. I care that he’s twenty-one
and she’s sixteen. I’ll kill him first.”
And yes, Sava could kill anyone—and had—but his wildly skewed
moral compass would never allow him to hurt an innocent.
“They think they are smarter than me, sneaking around.”
 The young man was playing with fire, and clearly, he wasn’t very bright
to try and go behind Sava’s back. Even if you didn’t know what the man did
for a living, just from seeing him and talking to him, you knew he wasn’t
someone you crossed. Fuck-around-and-find-out took on a whole new level
of scary when you screwed with Sava Chaban’s daughters.
He finished his texting as I had some water, then said, “What the hell
was that earlier?”
“I realized—and I got so scared just thinking about—are you in danger?
Your family? Does my father—”
“Stop, stop,” he soothed me, taking my hand and squeezing it gently.
“You know I’m a freelance contractor, have been for years. After your
funeral, I had a job in London to take care of, and as far as anyone knows,
that’s where I was and where I’ve been.”
“But you’ve been here and—”
“I have a friend who took care of that for me. He flew on my passport,
so if I’m ever asked, I have all the proof I need.”
“How the hell does someone fly on your passport?”
The look I got, like I was an idiot, made me instantly feel like one.
“Maks, people do these things all the time. You need to get out more.”
Clearly.
“But really, believe me when I tell you it is handled.”
“Not that my father would ever even ask you where you were at any
given time.”
“No. He would not,” Sava agreed.
Years ago, Sava’s brother had been close to death. At that time, my
friend had made the decision to go see his sibling even though the two had
been estranged for many years. When Sava made the trip, little did anyone
know that the elder Chaban would rise like a phoenix from his deathbed.
Once Ivan Chaban was well—restored, many said, through Sava’s faith
and determination alone—Ivan let my father know that his brother, who’d
been cut off from the family, had been returned to the fold. This meant that
Sava was free to do whatever he wanted. Basically, Sava didn’t have to
work another day in his life. He was no longer on our payroll or anyone
else’s. Through my taking care of his family when they needed it so Sava
could show his brother his true love and devotion, he became free of
everyone. He worked now because he got bored doing nothing, but it was
understood that he was, without question, untouchable. As vicious and
bloodthirsty as my father was, Ivan Chaban, a rich, terrifyingly connected
oligarch, made him look like a saint.
“Stop worrying,” he ordered. “All is well with me.”
“Okay.”
“Ask me why I set the car on fire.”
“But I know why,” I said, exhaling deeply. “You did that to hide the
evidence that I wasn’t dead.”
He nodded. “That’s right. It seemed reasonable that the crash could have
led to a fire, so I went ahead and did that, stopping short of blowing it up.”
“Because an explosion would have gotten rid of all trace of the
corpses.”
“Correct.”
“But even with a smoldering skeleton, what did you do about DNA? Or
dental records?”
Sava rolled his eyes and groaned. “This is why, as I’ve told you a
million times, getting rid of all the bodies is not something we do. You have
to keep some so you have cadavers when you need them.”
“Of course,” I agreed, tired suddenly. “You’re always right.”
“There was enough blood on the bones that didn’t burn, that you could
be identified.”
“How the hell did you do that?”
“Your shirt was soaked,” he explained. “I wrung it out and left quite a
bit of blood.”
“What about my teeth, my bones?”
“This goes back to the cadavers,” Sava explained, squinting at me like I
was slow. “And once people sign official documents, no matter what you
see in the movies and on those ridiculous police shows my wife loves,
things are not so easily questioned or overturned.”
“So you made me unimpeachably dead.”
His smile was smug. “I did. Yes.”
“So it would be good if I stayed that way.”
“Precisely,” he told me like I was a child. “You understand. Very good.”
I was quiet for a bit.
“I am sorry for the father you have.”
“Yeah,” I husked. “My mother had terrible taste in men.”
“Yes,” he said softly, putting his hand on my cheek. “But she loved her
sons.”
 And that was the gospel truth right there.

When I woke up later, it was dark. Sava was still there, sitting beside
me in a recliner that had been brought in, leaning back, watching something
on his laptop, having changed into yet another hideous tracksuit.
“Those really are terrible,” I apprised him.
“Because you have no taste.”
“I’ll miss you when I go,” I confessed.
“As I will you,” he promised, leaning forward to touch my hair. “I was
originally going to send you overseas, but why? You’re dead. Who will be
looking for you on the other side of the country?” He shrugged. “I say, you
get in the car I give you and head west. See where the wind takes you,
yes?”
It seemed as reasonable as anything else.
“You lost a lot of blood, Maks, and the wound was bad. It didn’t hit
anything vital, but still, the scar will be something.”
“When was I ever vain? One more, who cares?”
“Okay.”
Something occurred to me. “Do I have any money?”
“No. I’m sorry, but your father already drained all your accounts. Your
place belongs to Lev now. Your clothes, artwork, all the rest has been
disposed of. There was nothing I could do.”
I figured that.
“All the things that belonged to your mother, the paintings she did, the
artwork she collected, all that went to Pasha. I understand he’s having it
hung in his home in Highland Park. At least you know he’ll treasure it all.”
He would. I knew that.
“Your necklace wasn’t recovered from the crash,” he told me at the
same time he drew my mother’s 24K gold locket from his pocket. I had
worn it, along with my cross, a Russian Orthodox one, on the same gold
chain since she passed, eleven years ago. When she was alive, the locket
had a picture of me and Pasha inside. Now, there was a picture of her. I
nearly broke down when he handed it to me. “And your father wanted it
found.”
Of course he had. It would be yet another assurance that I was dead.
“He was furious at Lev for leaving it behind.”
 That was good to hear. I liked the idea of Lev disappointing him.
“I must tell you, as I had it in my pocket when I went to convey my
condolences at your funeral, there was some satisfaction in that.”
I smiled at him.
“You know, when I told Pasha you were alive, he didn’t believe me until
I showed him the locket.”
“He doesn’t take much on faith,” I reminded him. “You know that.”
“No. But he believed me then, and he wanted it, but I said no, it would
be too dangerous for him, plus, you needed your mother now more than
him.”
I cleared my throat. “He doesn’t know it was our father, does he?”
Sava shook his head. “No, and even if you went to him today”—he
shrugged—“he wouldn’t believe you if you told him.”
I knew that. Pasha wouldn’t think our father capable of having me
killed. It would be beyond his imagination to conjure. And I was going to
tell Sava I agreed, but suddenly, the way he was looking at me was strange.
Almost like he wanted me to grasp something. As though he’d come to
some conclusion I needed to reach.
“There are ways to make him believe you, though.”
I was missing something.
“Pasha, I mean. He could be made to understand your father’s true
heart, to see his real face, not the one he shows.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know,” he began, “if you fight Grigory Lenkov, Pasha wouldn’t be
hurt. He’s insulated, yes? That’s how your father planned it all out.”
Fight? That made no sense. I would be dead the second my father
realized I was actually alive. He might even put the bullet in me himself.
He tipped his head, waiting for me to catch up.
“Are you all right, old man?”
He shook his head. “You know what I’m saying.”
But I didn’t. “I can’t fight my father. I’m outgunned and outmanned.
And you already said he drained all my accounts, so I have no resources—”
“Lev, the others, and again, your father, would be buried if you fought,
but they did the same to you. Remember, your father gave the order to kill
you, and the others saw it done.”
And it hit me suddenly, what he really meant. The fighting he was
suggesting I do was not about taking up arms and spilling blood. He was
speaking of a betrayal that would be on the same level of what had been
done to me. He was talking about the Federal Bureau of Investigation,
about the people who’d been hunting all of us for years.
“No, I’ll just end up spending the rest of my very short life in jail with
them.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ve killed people too,” I reminded him. “I’m not innocent.”
“I agree, but still, there are worse.”
He meant my father.
“I’ll just go,” I countered.
He squinted at me, and it wasn’t a good look for him. Sava had a deeply
lined face that showed both how hard he lived and how often he laughed. It
was a face full of history. But when he narrowed his eyes, his face
scrunched up like a giant peach pit. “You could never go. We both know
that. You have to make them pay. It’s how you’re made.”
I did have vengeance in my blood. I came by it naturally.
“You’re worried Pasha will be hurt if you go to the Feds, but really, we
both know he will not. He’s been sheltered, insulated, nothing traces back to
him.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you could have that say, Maks. Make that a stipulation of you
becoming a witness.”
“You have to be joking.”
He arched an eyebrow in answer.
God.
The FBI.
It was funny to think about how long I’d been on their radar and how
equally many times I’d slipped through their fingers. The thing was, I had a
scary sixth sense that told me when I was being played. I only trusted my
closest friends.
And look how that had turned out.
“You could make things safe for Pasha and then burn the house down,”
he said with a wicked grin.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” I groused at him. “You’re in the
house too.”
He scoffed. “No one has any record of me doing anything with your
family. As far as the Feds know, I’m just a private citizen.”
 “Don’t be deluded. The FBI knows you’re ex-FSB. If Interpol knows,
they know.”
Quick shrug. “What people know and what they can prove are two very
different things. And you’re not going to testify against me, so why would
anyone care?”
I scoffed. “I see. You’re saying, why would anyone go looking for small
fish when I can give up the whale.”
Instant scowl. “You know whales are not fish, don’t you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Sava, I—”
His laughter shut me up, and when he leaned forward to put his hand on
my cheek and give me a quick pat, I stopped sputtering. “Listen, if you
testify against your father, your father gives them the others who are big
like him. They don’t care about me, or Lev, or whoever else. If your father
is done, everything he built goes away. That hurts the others who betrayed
you. It puts them out on their own.”
“Yeah, but what about Vanya and Nara and—”
“Pasha will be their safety net, and the Feds will be watching him
carefully afterward, but really, that’s okay because he’s clean. He has
nothing to hide.”
It was true.
“And imagine how liberating that will be for him. He can condemn your
father, rage publicly over losing you, and people will rally to his side. It’s
perfect for him.”
It would make him an even bigger celebrity than he was now.
“We both know you’re a fighter, Maks, not a runner.”
He knew me far better than I thought he did.
“You can’t just leave and let your father win. You can’t leave Pasha here
without your protection, or Vanya, or Nara.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, needing to get my bearings.
“Even me you worry about.”
I nodded, because my voice had gone out on me.
“There’s only one way to make sure we’re all taken care of forever.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Also,” he added, and I looked at him through my barely cracked lids.
“You can take out Constantine before he does any more damage.”
Once, a visiting ballerina from Moscow had turned down the advances
of Constantine’s oldest. She had acid thrown in her face the following night.
He had ordered the carnage like it was nothing. He was casually savage,
and if I could do anything to stop him or my father, it was the only choice to
be made.

A day later, I walked into the FBI headquarters on Roosevelt Road, went
to the desk, told the woman there who I was, and then staggered to the
lobby to sit down. I wasn’t feeling all that great. I had started running a
fever in the night, and Sava was even more pleased that I was seeking
intervention from the Feds. He was concerned that perhaps his doctor was
not as good as he thought.
“You’re killing me,” I told him when I opened the door of the stolen car
he would return as soon as he dropped me off.
“Hopefully not,” he quipped, squeezing my shoulder.
Once I was standing on the sidewalk, he surprised me by getting out and
coming around the car to hug me.
“Thank you,” I said, holding the tears in, swallowing down the pain of
parting. Once he was gone, that was it. He was my last tie to my old life.
“You’re welcome, Maks,” he said, smiling at me, water welling in his
own eyes as he eased back. “Be good now. This is a second chance. Live.”
“I will,” I promised him.
He left then, without looking back, which was the way it had to be.

Now, sitting in the chair, freezing even in my suit and trench coat, I waited.
When Special Agent in Charge Zane Calhoun came into the lobby, flanked
by easily twenty other FBI agents, I tried to smile—I knew him, after all—
but couldn’t quite manage to pull it off.
“Holy shit,” he muttered before barking out orders to others to secure
the building and the parking lot, making sure no one could come in after
me. Once he was done, he took a seat beside me. When I leaned sideways
to relieve the pressure in my side, he asked, “Are you carrying?”
“No,” I rasped, the jolt of pain taking my breath away.
“Tell me what you’re doing here.”
“You mean alive?” I teased.
“For starters.”
 “Reports of my death and all that,” I whispered.
He nodded. “I have to say, you dying in a car accident seemed far-
fetched.”
“Oh?” He got blurry for a moment, my eyes watering for whatever
reason.
“Yeah, I mean—” He gestured at me, turned and yelled at someone,
wanting to know where the goddamn ambulance was, and then was back to
holding my gaze. “—I always thought you’d die in a shootout in some
seedy warehouse somewhere.”
“Charming,” I said, catching my breath.
“But why rise from the dead now?”
“Originally, my big idea was to come in and speak to you about my
father,” I whispered. “But I think I’m gonna end up dying right here in your
lobby instead. I’m sorry, man. My plan wasn’t to die on you. I feel like
we’re old friends by now.”
He grunted. “We’re not friends, but I’m fuckin’ thrilled to see you.”
“Yeah? Did you know my father is in business with Zeljko
Constantine?”
“I heard that. Yes.”
I would have fallen out of my chair if he hadn’t moved fast and caught
me. He sank to the floor, gently, with me in his arms. I was surprised to see
EMTs rushing across the lobby to reach me.
“We’re gonna take good care of you, Maks, don’t you worry.”
“I had no idea you cared,” I said, chuckling, and then gasping.
“Stop talking now,” he ordered. “And at least with you, I knew the
blood wouldn’t reach the streets. It’s been a week, and I have dead civilians
already.”
“So you missed me,” I concluded, closing my eyes.
“Yes,” he said, and I heard the honesty in his voice. “Now really, shut
the fuck up.”
And I did for a couple of seconds before I passed out.
 FOUR

F ucking Sava.
I mean, I loved the guy, but did he even check to see who was
operating on me before he let them carve me open?
According to my FBI-appointed doctor, Sean Cooper, I was lucky to be
alive, considering the level of bad that my gut was in. Apparently, if you
were operated on by someone who didn’t get every piece of glass out of
your gastrointestinal tract, and if the environment was less than sterile, there
was a chance of consequences. Serious ones. Like sepsis.
I was sick for the next two weeks, touch and go the whole time, and
then a corner was turned and my surgeon, Dr. Lamar, cleared me for
transfer. She was very nice, had saved my life and even had her top plastic
surgeon work on me as well making sure there was no identifiable scar for
anyone to notice.
“You can do that?” I asked her.
“Twentieth-century medicine is a marvel,” she assured me sarcastically.
“Maybe try that first next time.”
I groaned. She smirked.
On my way out of the hospital, she asked me to please take care of
myself, as she didn’t want to see all her work go down the toilet.
“Your concern for me is overwhelming,” I groused at her as I was being
wheeled away on a gurney.
She only smiled and waved.
I was still in a drug-induced fog for the first twenty-four hours, at which
time I was moved out of Illinois and taken to New York. Not that I saw the
city. My view looked exactly the same as it did in Chicago. From the tower
I was in, I saw another, lots of windows, nothing else. Inside my room was
a police officer who didn’t speak to me for the first few days, but she finally
broke down when I offered her my chocolate pudding. I never understood
pudding. The consistency was gross.
“Don’t get any stupid ideas,” she warned me as she put the empty
container back on my tray. “There are two police officers outside this door.”
“You’re saying even if I lull you into a false sense of security, you have
backup.”
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
“You realize I’m here by choice,” I reminded her.
“Do I look like I care?”
It would have been scarier if she wasn’t smiling at me.
As far as informing on my father, I didn’t trust anyone but Calhoun, but
he talked to me over a secure video feed from his office to my hospital
room, and explained that Special Agent in Charge Monica Lewis was
basically him there in Manhattan.
“She’ll take good care of you, Maks, and I appreciate what you’re doing
for the city we both call home.” He took a breath. “Truly.”
The beautiful woman who walked through the door twenty minutes later
had a sunny yet serious demeanor and put me immediately at ease. Her dark
gaze was steady when she looked at me, her laugh was warm, and her
concern for me seemed genuine. Once I proved I was telling the truth with
passcodes and accounts in the Caymans that the FBI had no clue about, I
was golden. She spoke to me like we were colleagues, not like I was a
criminal. It was the best I’d felt in years. I had no idea of the weight I was
carrying until it was gone.
Two weeks later, I sat in a steel-and-glass room at 26 Federal Plaza in
New York City with a monitor in front of me and the seal of the FBI behind
me and answered questions that Lewis asked me as she sat off-camera. It
was recorded, and they played it for my father another three weeks after
that in front of the impaneled grand jury. The law was that everyone got to
face their accuser, but we weren’t there yet. It was a whole process.
My recorded statement was meant to help the nice people on the grand
jury decide if there was enough evidence to charge him. So my father got to
watch me, on video, alive and well, in all my glory, as I explained what I
knew, what I would testify to, and what I had evidence of. From what I was
told afterward, it took the jury no time at all to agree that Grigory Lenkov
should be charged on all counts. He was indicted later that same day.
I never saw him, wouldn’t see him until I appeared in court. If I had to.
With all the evidence, Lewis told me, it probably wouldn’t be necessary. I
hoped that would be the case. And it wasn’t that I was afraid to see him, but
that I found myself utterly fractured. I had moved from sadness and betrayal
to anger and bitterness, and then to feeling hollow. He’d orphaned me with
his choice. He had unmade me as his son. I had no place anymore, no
family, no friends, no one. I was all alone, an outsider staring in at my old
life. Seeing him would have crushed me, and I needed time to heal that
wound.
“I can’t imagine he won’t take a plea,” Lewis told me later as we sat
together in a high-rise hotel overlooking Times Square. It was as close as I
was getting to it. “That’ll decide where he’ll spend the rest of his life. In a
regular prison or ADX Florence.”
A supermax prison seemed like the best place for Grigory Lenkov. A
place where he would be alone every minute of every day would drive him
insane very quickly. He needed people in some capacity, and at least in a
normal maximum-security prison, there would be a hierarchy he could
ascend to.
“He’ll take a plea,” I assured her.
“That’s my feeling as well. My money’s on your old friend Lev making
that choice as well.”
I was guessing so.
After that, my witness protection was federally mandated. Not that it
hadn’t been before, but as my testimony backed up the evidence, and my
corroboration was necessary, and because my father would be in prison for
the rest of his life, I would be in WITSEC for the remainder of mine.
“It’s a chance at a new life for you, Maks. Most of the time, with non-
criminals, I feel bad for them because it’s not fair that they’re being
punished as well. Their lives are stripped away without their consent.”
I nodded.
“But in your situation, this is the best-case scenario.”
And it was, I knew that. Even if I wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of
my life, at least now I had the possibility of having a long one.
“You know, I got to see your father watching you testify.”
“Oh yeah?”
 “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice barely there, like she was
remembering his face. “I never actually saw someone turn gray before.
Logically, I knew he’d be shocked, but to see his face when you appeared
on screen was…something.” She looked at me intently. “He honestly
thought, in his heart, that you were dead.”
“Yes.”
“Because he sent your second-in-command—”
“My best friend,” I corrected her.
“Your best friend…to kill you.”
It was like she was having some epiphany right there beside me.
“I wouldn’t last a day in your world, Maks. That kind of betrayal would
break me.”
I wasn’t so sure it hadn’t been the end of me.

The following week, back in her office, we got the news that there
would be no trial. As expected, Grigory Lenkov would go to a maximum-
security prison for the remainder of his life.
“Is he going to turn state’s evidence for you as well?” I asked Lewis.
She scoffed. “Oh no, Maks,” she assured me. “We don’t need him. We
have Constantine, who flipped on all his associates and all your father’s as
soon as we showed him that we had a record of all the cash transactions
between them. Once you gave us the accounts and access to your safety-
deposit box—which no one knew you had—we made the decision to go
forward with the prosecution of everyone who’s ever worked for your
father.”
“What will happen to Constantine?”
“He’s the one going to ADX Florence. It turns out that because you
were running the business for your father for so long, your father doesn’t
have the same amount of blood on his hands as Constantine.”
That made sense.
“Eventually, we’ll get everyone.”
I had a twinge of worry for Sava. “Okay.”
“Very smart to get a safety-deposit box in your grandmother’s name.”
I shrugged. “I have my moments.”
“You kept meticulous records. I’m really so impressed.”
“Why? You don’t think criminals can be good businessmen?”
 “No, no,” she said, chuckling. “That’s not what I’m saying. What I am
saying is that you could be a lawyer with records like that, or a CPA. I
mean, seriously, everything is right there, easy to find and access with
folders and subfolders, everything labeled, and I have to tell you, your
Excel skills put mine to shame.”
“Stop, you’re making me blush,” I teased her.
“You should have skipped the life of crime and joined the Bureau.”
I grunted.
“All that record-keeping begs the question, though. Why take such
meticulous notes? Like down to the time of day when your father pulled the
trigger, sent a bribe, or paid off someone to look the other way? I don’t get
it. You tied him up in a bow. There’s no wiggle room for him with every
transgression accounted for.”
“That’s true.”
“Why?”
I tipped my head. “I always figured he’d turn on me someday. That was
my safety net to make sure he couldn’t just make me disappear.”
“Again, your own father,” she said, shaking her head, the heavy ponytail
swaying with the slight movement. I thought, again, as I had on our first
meeting, how stunning she was. She looked more like a runway model than
an FBI agent. “I’m sorry, that’s just mind-blowing to me and goes back to
my comment about your old world versus mine.”
Sighing deeply, I said, “I was always certain I’d die young. I was just
protecting myself from the threats I knew about.”
“But your own family? Your own father?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“It was my normal.”
She exhaled sharply. “I have no idea how you did it.”
“If you were born into it, you’d have ideas, believe me.”
“Maybe,” she granted. “You know, it turns out that Galina knew about
certain payments that were received from the criminal activity, so she’s
going to need to answer for that in court.”
“Yeah, but she’s a small fish.”
“True. And if she helps us, she could find herself with a clean record.”
“That’s good.”
 “Your brother is a whole other story,” she said, leaning forward, elbow
on her desk, chin on her hand, regarding me. “How in the world did he not
know what was going on?”
“Have you never seen The Godfather?”
It took a moment for what I said to sink in.
“What?”
“The movie. With Al Pacino. Have you seen it?”
She shook her head.
“You’ve never seen the—”
“No, I mean, of course I’ve seen The Godfather,” she snapped at me. “I
just have no idea what the movie has to do—”
“Don’t you remember how in the beginning, Michael was gonna be a
senator?”
“Stop,” she ordered, cracking a sudden smile but trying not to—I could
tell from how hard she pursed her lips. “This isn’t funny.”
“So see, Pasha is Michael before they killed Sonny.”
She groaned loudly.
“I’m serious. He’s golden.”
“Well, miraculously, he is that.”
I was glad. “What will happen to Stas and Adrian?”
“I don’t know who those individuals are, but I’m sure there will be
assorted time for everyone caught in the net. Speaking of, Lev Kamenov is
in the wind.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We’ve got a red notice out on him, and the marshals and local
law enforcement in Chicago and across the country are hunting him down,
so rest assured, we will find him.”
But Lev was well connected. I didn’t like their chances. “’Course,” I
agreed, hoping to sound encouraging.
“I don’t want you to worry, though.”
It hit me then, what she was saying. “Oh no, I’m not worried about Lev
finding me.”
“Why the hell not?” She sounded affronted.
“Because he wants to be free more than he wants to get his revenge on
me.”
“I—”
 “Did Nara disappear? Leave with him? They were supposed to be in
love.”
“Yeah, you told us that, and we have eyes on her, but no. She stayed
with her brother and her family. I think whatever feelings she had for Mr.
Kamenov paled in comparison to people she loves.”
That sounded like Nara. Vanya and her parents had always been her first
love.
“So you don’t think if Kamenov had the opportunity—”
“Here’s the thing you have to know about him,” I explained. “He failed.
He didn’t kill me, and he’d rather die himself than ever face me again. Not
to mention, he failed my father. I’m telling you right now, he’ll go live in
Siberia rather than deal with that shame.”
She nodded. “Not that I doubt you, but I’ve known more criminals than
you have, and I’m here to tell you, that’s not how it works. You think he has
some innate sense of honor, like the failure is the biggest part of this
equation, but you’re wrong.”
“Listen, I—”
“What? Know him? Maks, let’s face it, you got caught completely
unawares because guess what, you never really knew him at all.”
And she was right, to a degree. I’d missed the betrayal, yes. But I knew
what lay at the heart of the man. “The failure, his honor…you’re just not
getting that.”
“Oh, I get it, I do. But no matter what you think, Lev Kamenov will try
and find you and kill you because that—putting you in the ground—that
will restore his honor.”
“Not to anyone who matters,” I assured her. “I’ve already done the
damage because of his failure. Mark my words, he’s on the run.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m betting the contract on his life is just as big as the one on
mine.”
“Well, if he’s smart, he’ll pick some non-extradition country and take up
farming because we don’t need him. You’re the one who knows where all
the bodies are buried. Because of you, we know so much and learn more
every day, going over your evidence. And the best part is, we still have you
if we need our questions answered or for you to confirm our discoveries.
Mr. Kamenov can be gunned down in the street and our ongoing
investigation won’t suffer in the least. He’s of no consequence.”
 “Very dramatic.”
“But true.”
I couldn’t argue. From a law-enforcement standpoint, Lev was merely
another cog in the wheel, a thug to throw in jail and forget.
Something was still bothering me, and so I had to ask. Again. “You’re
sure Pasha is safe?”
“From whom? Your father or us?”
“You. I know my father would never hurt him. That’s his legacy.”
“I can promise you that there is seriously nothing that links him to
anything. Even your impeccable records don’t include him.”
He had been insulated for a reason. To not be tainted by any part of my
father’s business. Now he could run the legitimate end without anyone
having a claim on him. And of course, he would have law enforcement
watching him for the rest of his life, which turned out to be great for him
because he was squeaky clean. No one unscrupulous would ever go near
him now that he was living his business life under a microscope. Everything
had turned out for the best. I just had to die for it to happen.
My mind was drifting, and when she cleared her throat, I realized I’d
been zoned out. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to say something to you, and I want you to listen.”
“Haven’t I been?” I goaded her.
“Stop with all the banter, and just hear me.”
I stared at her open, honest face. “Fine.”
“I know you don’t think you’re a good man, Maks, but you’ve done an
amazing thing here, and now the road is clear in front of you. Second
chances are the best.”
“I dunno. Some would say I deserve the same you’re giving to everyone
else.”
“The difference is that, by all reports, you saved more people than you
hurt.”
I shook my head. “That’s not true. The scales don’t tip in my favor.”
“Says you.”
“One death, twenty, it’s all the same blood on you, right?”
She was quiet a moment. “When I first started with the Bureau, I used
to think just like that. But I’ve killed people in the line of duty, and some
would have killed me, but others, I believe, were just in the wrong place at
the wrong time, scared, back up against the wall, feeling like they had no
other option than to try and kill me. They were desperate and confused, and
I stood between them and their freedom.”
“And?” I groused.
“And I had no choice but to end their lives because if I didn’t act, I
would be the one in the morgue.”
“What’re you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that you prevented ‘wrong place, wrong time’ scenarios.
You helped your people make better choices, and we have statement after
statement to that effect.”
“Listen—”
“I think you did the best you could in the environment you were in,
faced with insane decisions I can’t even imagine.”
“It’s not that black and white.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The more reports we take, apparently
everyone misses the guy who took care of them and their families, who
didn’t let petty arguments turn into blood, and who kept the peace between
all the parties for years.”
But I knew better, and I was covered in the same blood my father was,
no matter what the kind FBI agent believed.
“And according to Zane Calhoun, with you gone, bodies were dropping
every day.”
I smirked at her. “I think he’s confused. Don’t you get that from him?
That he’s not all that bright?”
Her smile lit her dark eyes. “You’re a better man than you think you are,
Maksim Lenkov, so from now on, choose the path in the sun and fuck the
shadows.”
“Eloquently put.”
“I try,” she said, grinning.
And so would I.
 FIVE

P ortland smelled different from Chicago, and even from New York,
which I’d only been in for a month. But as soon as we were out in the
parking lot, it was like wet pavement, soil, and smoke hit my nostrils
all at the same time.
“I wanna go home,” Deputy US Marshal Grant Kendall whined as we
walked through the parking lot to get the car.
I wondered if I was supposed to be in handcuffs. Hard to say. Kendall
and his partner, Deputy US Marshal Serena Woods, hadn’t once treated me
like a criminal. At the airport, we didn’t even have to go through the metal
detectors or wait in line, since they were federal agents, so the three of us
walked through the terminal like colleagues, getting breakfast and coffee.
On the plane I didn’t have to sit between them. I got the window in
business class, and Kendall, who was in the middle, fell asleep while
Woods watched a movie on her phone. It was anticlimactic, to say the least.
There had been discussion about where to take me—Oregon or Arizona
—and the chief deputy in Manhattan, the woman in charge of putting me in
WITSEC, had decided that Oregon would be better for me.
“This man is a good witness, and we want to give him the best chance
for a new life,” she’d told Lewis, then to me, “It’s your decision, Mr.
Lenkov, but I think if you’re hot all the time, you’ll be miserable in
Arizona. How in the world is that any kind of reward? I myself hate
Arizona, so I can only assume, being from Chicago, you will too.”
I didn’t know about that, and Lewis had pressed her lips together really
tight so she wouldn’t laugh. And so it was decided—I was going to the
Pacific Northwest.
“I’ll be in touch as different cases progress, but I probably won’t see
you in person again,” Lewis said before she hugged me, surprising the hell
out of me.
“Awfully touchy-feely for an FBI agent,” I told her as I walked away.
“That’s special agent,” she reminded me just so we were clear.
Now, in Portland, I had to wonder if the air was always going to be this
damp.
“You smell that?” Kendall asked me as we got on the freeway. “That’s
trees and rain, Maks. Get used to it.”
“Stop,” Woods ordered him and then smiled as she turned around in the
front passenger seat to look at me. “I think it’s beautiful here.”
I squinted at her.
“And I’m sure there’s decent pizza somewhere.”
Kendall thought that was hysterical, if his laughter was any indication.

Unlike in Illinois or New York, there was only one judicial district in
Portland, and their US Marshal field office was a bit smaller than the one in
Manhattan. In fact, New York state had four districts, so it was safe to say
that it was a far cry from what Woods and Kendall were used to.
Their faces, when we reached the office, fluctuated between amazement
and uncertainty.
“You two all right?” I asked them.
“Holy shit,” Woods murmured, glancing around.
“What a dump,” Kendall said under his breath, bumping me with his
shoulder. “You know, Maks, at least if you went to Phoenix, I think they’d
have Wi-Fi.”
“You see,” Woods said, “this is why we have the rule to stop for coffee
because Jesus, this place.” She was clearly horrified from the look on her
face, the upturned nose, and the small indrawn breaths. “Can you imagine
what kind of monkey piss they’re drinking?”
“Look, look, look,” Kendall rushed out, tipping his head at the desk.
“That computer is older than me.”
Truly, it was a very small office. Compared to the one in Manhattan,
there were definitely missing bells and whistles. But Byers and Alvarez,
who took custody of me from Woods and Kendall, both seemed competent
and even explained up front that there was no espresso machine in the
office.
“But there are lots of good coffee places in town,” Alvarez informed us.
“Oh, we know,” Woods said snidely. “That’s why we’re late. We had to
make sure to stop first in case your office was small.”
Kendall’s smirk just rubbed it in.
They were definitely not all going to be sitting around having drinks
together, but as soon as the New York marshals left me, shaking my hand,
wishing me the best, and I was alone with the Portland ones, they both
warmed up. We sat together in their conference room, and again went over
what the supervisory deputy in New York had told me: my new bank
account, my driver’s license, passport, social security card, and so on. And
then Byers explained that because the town of Rune, where I was headed,
had no available apartments, they had rented a house for me. Once that was
done, they told me yet again what I could and couldn’t do or have. As in
any contact with anyone from my old life. New friends were just fine.
“Got it,” I assured Martina Alvarez.
Byers took me down to the garage then and showed me all the vehicles I
had to choose from. I was surprised by how old they were.
“You’re giving me a car?”
“You get a car,” Byers corrected me. “It’s part of the living expenses
you receive as a witness, especially as you won’t be living here in the city
and will need reliable transportation to get to and from our office.”
It made sense.
“The car, however, cannot stick out in any way.”
Meaning, the more it looked like everything else on the road, the better.
“Great,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, glancing over at the Jeep
Wagoneer.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Byers assured me. “It’s a 2003, and it runs
great.”
Of everything there, it looked the best.
I used to drive a— I didn’t go any further with that thought. It wasn’t
helpful, and though the creature comforts of my old life, the things I used to
have, were amazing, the rest was not. Better to drive an older, dependable
Jeep and not have to worry about killing anyone or being killed in the
course of a day.
 Alvarez joined us then as well and handed me paperwork in an envelope
and two keys on a carnation-pink ring with a picture of a palm tree and a
surfer. My gaze met hers in a question.
“I got it in Hawai’i when I was there on vacation. It looks vintage,
right? Like an old hotel-room key. It’s cute.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “These are house keys, then, front door and
deadbolt?”
“That’s right. We pay for a year of rent. Next year it’s on you.”
“Got it.”
“And the Jeep is a great choice,” she told me. “When it snows, the fact
that it’s a four-wheel drive is going to be a huge help.”
“Sounds good.”
Byers went to the locked key box and returned with a bedazzled letter K
with the Jeep key on it. Of the two, the K was better, so I gave Alvarez back
her pink thing.
“Really?”
“This way you get to keep it,” I said cheerfully.
She shook her head at me. “There’s no accounting for taste.”
“Or not,” I teased her.
“I like you, but listen,” she said softly, serious now. “If anything
happens, from a traffic stop to some small altercation when you’re out to
dinner somewhere, your first call is to us.”
“You already told me this inside.”
“I know.”
“And all the other marshals have told me the same thing.”
“I’m aware.”
“So really, I’ve got it.”
“Okay.”
But from the skeptical look on her face, I was thinking she didn’t
believe me. “You sure?”
“I just— If you see anyone who looks out of place, you—”
“Call you. Yes. I got it.”
“I read your file, so I can’t imagine anyone is looking for you away
from any large city, figuring you’d never make it anywhere else—”
“Really?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she replied sincerely. “Most witnesses like yourself do
not do well in an environment so dramatically different—like night-and-day
different—from their original one.”
“So you’re setting me up for failure?”
“Not at all. The chief deputy of the Southern District of New York
believes you will thrive here—she says in your file that you need a brand-
new start.”
I squinted at her.
“Fine. There’s some flowery language from an FBI agent as well, who
believes that you’ll bloom where you’re planted.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I told you it was flowery.”
“Okay, so you think I’ll be fine here.”
“I do,” she assured me. “But if you aren’t, if you need us for any reason,
just please reach out, and we’ll get to Rune as soon as we can.”
“It’s a weird name for a town.”
“Not any more so than Chicago, if you think about it.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled.
“Listen, I put the address in your new phone, and it will take you right
where you need to be.” She smiled then. “I believe you’re going to be
perfectly safe and happy in Rune.”
A place that didn’t even sound real.
“Also, if you get in any trouble with the locals—”
“Because you might,” Byers chimed in.
“Because you might,” Alvarez agreed, “call us. You can get us both
night and day.”
I had a new iPhone programmed with their numbers and nobody else’s.
It was becoming important to leave already. I was getting antsy, ready to
start. I had to get on the road. “I will follow directions,” I reiterated, then
walked around the car, opened the passenger side door, and threw onto the
seat my duffel with the few clothes that had been bought in New York—not
a designer label in the bunch. I had on the shearling-lined barn coat that
Special Agent Lewis had purchased for me because she wanted to make
sure I didn’t freeze in Oregon. At the time I was confused because I figured
there would be rain, yes, but that it wouldn’t be cold, not in May. It turned
out to be a mixed bag. Like today, it was raining, and the high was only
fifty-seven. At night, with the showers, it would be down to forty-five. So
no, I wouldn’t freeze, but the coat was a good call. It was strange not to
have all my old clothes. Normally, people had personal items they took with
them when they entered WITSEC. I had nothing, as everything I owned had
been divvied up once I was considered dead. It had to be weird for everyone
now, knowing I wasn’t.
I had thought at first that I would have loved to see the look on Lev’s
face when my father gave him the news I wasn’t dead. But it turned out that
the further I got from everything and everyone who used to consume my
life in Chicago, the clearer it became that it only mattered what those I
loved thought. I only cared about them. I had taken my revenge in the best
way possible, and really, it was enough.
I missed my shoes, though. Hiking boots had never really been me. Or
Converse sneakers. Even the harness boots currently on my feet were less
me and more a hipster or a guy who rode a motorcycle. As I was neither, it
all felt weird.
The only things I did have that were mine were the watch I’d been
wearing the night Lev tried to kill me—and which was worth more than
everything else, including the Jeep—and my locket. I was very thankful for
that. Lev could have very well torn it from my neck when he leaned in to
shoot me that night, but he would have also had to get closer than he
wanted. Because of the formal wear for my brother’s party, Lev would’ve
had to loosen my tie and undo suit buttons to get at the locket. There was an
interesting number of coincidences that had to occur to save both my life
and the personal possessions I still owned. Sava had been my guardian
angel, watching me like a hawk, seeing the writing on the wall that I missed
completely. Even now, with everything gone and changed, I considered
myself a lucky man. My life, which had been predictable, had taken another
path. I just needed to figure out what that was.
Getting out of Portland took longer than I thought, but I was on my way
half an hour later, around nine in the morning. I drove for almost two hours
—including stopping for half an hour for breakfast—and eventually arrived
in Seaside, Oregon. This was the closest larger town to where I was going
to live, and another twenty minutes away from the fictional-sounding but
actually real town of Rune, located between Seaside and Tillamook, on the
Oregon coast, up near the border of Washington. There were other towns
along the way—Warrenton, Gearhart—but Seaside was the biggest, and that
was where the closest police department was that the marshals felt
comfortable sending me to in case of trouble. I was to report there in case of
emergency. As if I’d go anywhere instead of handling things myself.
 Following a bend in the road, when I came around, there was a dog
right there, standing still like a statue. Swerving, I went off-road a bit,
sliding on the blacktop, which was wet from the slight drizzle, and came to
a stop. What had really scared me was that the pit bull was standing there
frozen, and I was certain the very next car around the same turn would
probably kill him.
Jogging over close, I called the dog to me. Instead of moving, he just
stood there and shivered. It wasn’t a particularly busy road, but still.
“C’mon, buddy,” I pleaded, crouching down, and he took several steps
forward but stopped. At which point I remembered I still had the peanut-
butter crackers the marshals had bought for me before we took the red-eye
out of New York. I hadn’t eaten them, dozing instead.
I pulled one out of the breast pocket of my jacket, unwrapped it, held it
up for the dog to see, then tossed it close. He gobbled it up like it was a
cheeseburger. I threw the next one closer, then the next, getting him to
safety just in time, as a minivan came around the corner a moment later. It
would have hit him easily, traveling far faster than I had been, but they were
probably locals, whereas I was still learning the roads.
When I held the next one in my hand, he took it from me. “You’re so
pretty,” I soothed the dog, reaching for him. “What do you call this color,
brindle or something?”
The pit bull must have liked the look of me and moved into arm’s reach
so I could pet him. When I rose to my knees, he didn’t bolt, just eyed me, at
which point I noticed the open cut on his rear thigh, near his hip. I knew
knives, knew it had been made with one, so I very gently bent over and
lifted him into my arms. When I was carrying him to my car, I heard a
pitiful howl from my right.
Putting him in the back seat, wishing there was a blanket for him to lie
down on, and promising myself I’d get one, I told him to stay before I
closed him in and walked toward the brush. It took me only a minute to find
a smaller dog, probably some kind of Australian Shepherd mix since the
hair was shorter than on others I’d seen. It had a wound in the same place as
the first dog, and a broken front leg. Amazingly, even though the dog had to
be in pain, it was wagging its tail in the dirt—which was quickly turning to
mud as the sky opened up.
“Oh, love, what happened?” I asked as I lifted the dog into my arms—a
girl, I saw—and carried her to my car. When I got the back door open on
the passenger side, and put her down beside the pit bull, he licked her face
and she whined. Clearly, they were happy to see each other.
Getting in behind the steering wheel, I pulled from the breast pocket of
my coat my brand-new, shiny iPhone with its very durable, very not-me-
looking case—I normally went in for sleek and stylish—and searched for a
veterinarian. There was only one in Rune, which I was closer to now than
Gearhart, so I checked Google Maps and headed that way.
The center of town was sort of sweet. There was a square with a gazebo
in a grassy area with many pine trees and junipers. It was beautiful. It only
went in one direction around the center, and people slowed down to make
turns. The vet’s office was toward the end of the circle, after a diner called
Starfish and a place I was guessing was a coffee shop, given its name was
the Daily Grind.
Pulling into a spot right in front, I hopped out, went immediately to the
back seat and picked up the Aussie, cradling her gently in my arms, and had
the pit bull jump down since none of his bones were broken as far as I could
tell. He was a very good boy and stayed right with me. I was thankful that
someone inside saw me and came out to hold the door for me.
“Hey,” I greeted her once she closed the door and faced me. “We need
some help.”
She nodded quickly. “May I ask what you’re doing with Viola Berry’s
dogs?”
“I don’t know who that is. I found them both on that turn right before
you drive down the hill into town.”
She squinted at me. “Are you new here?”
“Yes, ma’am, arrived just now.”
Her smile came quickly and made her dimples pop. “I’m Shannon, nice
to meet you. Please bring them on back, and I’ll give Viola a call.”
“Thank you.”
In the waiting room, a woman holding a mastiff and an older man with a
cat carrier both smiled at me as I followed Shannon into the back.
“Everyone, it’s an emergency,” she shouted, and the staff came from all
directions, asking questions about Peanut, the pit bull, and Delilah, the
border collie, which explained her short hair. I knew very little about dogs
or dog breeds, so I shouldn’t have assumed.
“Oh no,” one of the women gasped, her eyes filling fast. “Viola said
Bruce would do this if he got home and the dogs were still there. I hope
she’s okay.”
People began talking all at once, on top of each other, hurling questions
at me, one dog on each table, four techs with each, and because I was bad
with chaos, had never liked it, I yelled. I had to. I could never stand an
overwhelming amount of noise. Funny, but when I had saved Vanya from
Burian, that too had been loud and disorderly, lots of commotion, just like
now. The difference being that once I started talking, everything had
changed. In my old life, I was in charge and people stopped what they were
doing for me. They went silent, hanging on my words. Clearly, that would
not be the case ever again.
“Sorry,” I said quickly into the silence. “Forgive me, but I’ve been here
maybe half an hour, and all I know is where I found the dogs. If you could
fix them up, I’ll pay for it, and maybe in the meantime we call Viola and
see if she knows anything about this. Is that fine?”
Lots of nodding, so I stepped back, near the cages, to get my bearings
and breathe.
When I was second-in-command of the Lenkov family, no one yelled at
me or questioned me, and I really needed to change my head space about
that. I was no longer the feared son of a mob boss, but instead a private
citizen. In my defense, I’d only not been a criminal for a couple of months,
so I hadn’t yet had the time to adjust. What was most important to
remember was that no one was scared of me anymore, and if I didn’t want
to be thought of as a raving lunatic, I needed to count to ten first the next
time I had a lot of people yelling at me at once. Though I couldn’t imagine
I’d ever be in this exact situation again.
Hopefully.
I jolted when something touched my back, and whirling around, came
face-to-face with a tiny puppy. He was in the cage directly behind me, and
when I glared at him, he tipped his head sideways like he was sizing me up.
“What?” was all I could think of to say. I felt very judged for being
startled.
He put his little paw through the bars a second time, and I stepped
forward to touch it. Immediately, he yipped, then growled like he was big
and scary, but when I stuck my finger in the cage, he wasted no time licking
me, probably trying to see if I tasted like chicken. He was easily the cutest
thing I’d ever seen in my life.
 “What are you doing here?” I asked him, which was ridiculous, but it
was just him and me, so it was fine.
I got more growling.
“Are you being punished?” I leaned closer. When he licked the end of
my nose, I wanted to take him out of his cage.
“That one can go home with you,” one of the vet techs told me. “His
owners dropped him off, and then when we called to tell them how much it
would be to remove a small fatty tumor, they declined the surgery and told
us to put him down.”
“Put him down?” That made zero sense. “How old is he?”
“He’s nearly two, house-trained, neutered, and as far as I can tell, they
must have kept him locked up in a cage from morning to night with how
long his nails were and how desperately in need of a good grooming he
was.”
“Poor thing.”
“So we went ahead and got rid of the benign little cyst, and he’s in
perfect health otherwise.”
“Why’re you telling me this?”
“Just in case you were wondering.”
I turned back to him, scratched under his chin, and he leaned into my
hand.
“He also, as far as I can tell, hates everyone.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Oh yes it can,” she said with a grunt. “He’s been a handful.”
“Him?”
“Yes, him. Don’t be fooled. He’s a demon.”
I shot her a look. “Are you trying to find him a home or not?”
“Oh, right.” She gave me a winning smile. “I meant demon in the best
possible way.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Also, for your information, he’s a Morkie, and his name is Baby.”
I scoffed. “He looks like a Misha to me.”
He rolled over and offered me his belly.
“Oh dear God, he’s making a whore of himself. Take him out already.”
I couldn’t help it, he was too cute, and when I opened the cage, he
leaped at me and I had to scramble to catch him. Once I had him secured,
he rubbed his nose on my stubble and then licked my nose again.
 “Holy crap, that is love at first sight,” she said with a sigh. “You need to
take him with you or you’ll break his little heart.”
But I had no idea what my place looked like or— “Wait, what the hell is
a Morkie?”
She laughed. “He’s part Yorkie—Yorkshire terrier—and part Maltese.”
“Huh.”
More chuckling. “We’ll give you everything you need for him.”
“I don’t have—”
“He clearly adores you, and that’s as large as he’s gonna get, so how
much trouble could he be?” She made her eyes big.
“You said he was a demon.”
“Again, I meant as in little angel demon.”
“No such thing.”
“Oh please, you didn’t even know what a Morkie was.”
That was true. “Who are you?”
“Linda.” She crossed her arms.
“Well, I’m not buying the innocent act there, Linda. I can tell from
looking at you that he’s a demon dog.”
Her smile lit up her whole face. “And you are?”
“Maks,” I replied, shaking my head at her. “He’s gonna get as big as a
cow, right?”
She snorted. “No. Not at all. That’s the top stop, I swear. He’ll probably
end up weighing maybe thirteen pounds total. Maybe less.”
I went back to giving him scratches. “I can’t have a dog.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t even know where I’m living yet.”
“Don’t make excuses, Maks. I can see you’re in love.”
She couldn’t see a damn thing, and I was going to argue with her, but
there was a noise from out front. A woman came rushing into the back,
pulling a little girl, maybe six or seven, behind her. The woman was
bleeding from her nose and very split lip, and the little girl had red
splotches on her face, like maybe she’d been slapped. Both of them were
sniffling and wet like they’d run through the rain.
“Oh thank God,” the woman, who had to be Viola Berry, gasped,
starting to cry then, rushing first to Peanut, petting him and kissing his
head, and then quickly moving to Delilah.
 The little girl went directly to Peanut, wrapped her arms around his
neck, and started to sob.
Before explanations could be given, we all heard a car come to a
screeching halt outside. The little girl screamed, which made the dog growl.
The fact that the child was afraid of whoever was in the car spoke very
poorly of that person.
Passing Misha to Linda, I asked her if there was perhaps a bat in the
office, or maybe a golf club. Rushing over to a cabinet, opening the bottom
drawer, she came back with an expandable ASP baton.
“Nice,” I told her and got a quick smile.
I flicked it open and started for the front door. There was a man there,
about to throw it open, but I kicked it instead, which hit him in the face and
chest and sent him flying backward to the ground.
Outside, I stood between him and the door and waited for him to get up.
Another man got out of the passenger side of the pickup truck they’d both
come in—it was still running, so it wasn’t hard to figure out—and another
came from the seat behind his.
“Who the fuck are you?” the passenger guy barked, and I saw the rifle
leveled at me.
“I’m the new bouncer for the vet,” I answered sarcastically, because
what was with those kinds of questions? They were just so stupid.
“You’re the what?” the third guy said, charging around the man with the
rifle.
As soon as he was close enough, I hit him in the gut, and when he
stumbled forward, I got him in the face—heard his nose pop—and then
smacked him in the left knee, which sent him crashing to the ground.
The first guy, who I could only assume was Bruce, having gotten back
to his feet, charged me, and I did the same as to the previous guy: gut, face
—his nose didn’t break, though—then I hit him in the groin, which had him
crumpled in a fetal position at my feet.
“I’m gonna kill you,” the guy with the rifle warned me.
“Best get on with that,” I growled, rushing him, moving faster than I
was certain he thought I would—he was probably used to people freezing
when he threatened them—shoving the rifle up, hitting him in the knee with
the baton, and easily wrenching the weapon from his hands.
Since he didn’t go down, I stepped to the side, hit him across the throat,
and when both of his hands went there as he gasped for air, I clipped him in
the gut and then in the groin. Was it overkill? Yes. Was that the way I was
raised and was it absolutely ingrained and instinctive? Yes again. It was
muscle memory of violence without a doubt. Again, this civilian life was
still very new to me. I couldn’t be expected to change my entire way of
being after only two months away from the blood and death I used to live
in.
Turning back to the door, I saw a man there in a white coat with Dr.
Coleman embroidered on it, so he had to be the vet. He was tall, tan, and his
blond hair was pulled back into a bun. For some reason, I’d been expecting
someone older, like something from a movie, the folksy-country-vet kind of
thing, even though we were in Oregon and not some small town in the Deep
South where people set pies fresh from the oven on windowsills.
“Vet bouncer?” he asked me with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.
Collapsing the baton, I shrugged. “Stupid questions get stupid answers,
yeah?”
“Yes,” he agreed, stepping aside to hold open the door for me as I heard
a siren. “Would you like to come back inside, Mr.…”
“Maks,” I answered. “Just Maks.”
“Maks,” he said with a sharp exhale. “Please do come in.”
“And just so you know, it’s Maks with a k and an s, not an x.”
“Oh, okay,” he murmured. “Thank you for the clarification.”
I shrugged, feeling stupid suddenly. “It probably doesn’t even matter or
—”
“Of course it matters,” he assured me. “It’s your name.”
It was, and the first one was the only one I still had.
Back in the lobby, I looked to the man with the cat. “Sorry about all the
—”
“Oh no,” he said quickly, cutting me off. “I appreciate your taking care
of Bruce Berry outside instead of letting him come in. Terrible man, and
heaven knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been here to
intercede.”
Always a clue to the kind of person someone was when people
volunteered that it was a good and needed thing that you kicked the crap out
of them.
“I agree,” the lady with the mastiff rushed out. “He might have hurt my
sweet bunny, so thank you so much.”
 I already knew Bruce was the kind of man who hurt animals and
women. Not that her “bunny” would have been one of his victims. Her dog
could have eaten Bruce, but I appreciated the support nonetheless.
Linda, who I noted then was the only vet tech in lavender scrubs, rushed
over, and I passed her back her baton. “Thank you so much for the assist.”
She took it and smiled. “My husband got this for me for protection, and
I even went to classes, but really, you did that much faster than I ever could
have. You kept us all safe, and we appreciate it.”
“You’re very welcome,” I told her as we all heard the siren right
outside, earsplittingly loud for a moment before there was blessed silence.
Through the glass, we saw a policeman arrive, get out of his cruiser, roll
each man over so they were facedown on the sidewalk, and secure them
with cable tie handcuffs on the wrists and ankles. Moments later, he walked
into the clinic.
My first thought was that he looked like he should have been the one on
the recruitment posters for whatever kind of law enforcement he was. The
word clean-cut came instantly to mind. Built like a swimmer, tall, maybe
six-three, with wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs, everything he
was wearing clung tightly to his solid, muscular frame. His dirty-blond hair
was cut short on the sides, longer on top. He was not at all what I’d been
expecting, but again, I had this whole small-town thing going on in my head
that was much more Mayberry than Rune.
“Who kicked the crap out of Bruce and his cousins?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but everyone else answered him instead.
So much sound happening at once, like a wall of voices hitting him, and I
would have yelled again, just as I had earlier, but he took care of it himself
by gently clearing his throat. It was a much better way of settling everyone
down. Once it was quiet, he turned to Dr. Coleman beside me.
“Doc,” he said, sounding tired.
“Deputy,” Dr. Coleman returned the greeting.
“Care to explain?”
“Well, Maks here,” he began, indicating me with both hands, “found
Viola Berry’s two dogs out on the highway near the bend, which I guess is
where Bruce threw them and left them to bleed out and die after he cut
both. Thankfully, he didn’t cut deep enough to do any real damage to the
muscles. I suspect Delilah was probably thrown as well, maybe kicked,
because Bruce managed to break her front leg in two places.”
 Heavy sigh from the deputy, who glanced at me. “You brought the dogs
in, did you?”
“I did.”
“And when Bruce came here, probably to assault Viola, you protected
her and everyone else in the office?”
It was an interesting way to phrase my actions. “I couldn’t let him in.”
He tipped his head at the bolt-action rifle in my hand. “Does that belong
to one of the men outside?”
“It does,” I replied, passing the weapon to him. “And it’s loaded.”
He checked and then emptied it. “Did the owner threaten you with
bodily harm?”
I had to be honest. “He did, yes. But I didn’t take it as a real threat.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you shouldn’t either.” I clarified for him.
“Okay,” he said with a nod as two other officers entered and looked
around before turning to their boss. “We’re taking in Bruce and his cousins
on animal-cruelty charges and—Viola?” he called out.
The woman in question came out from the back, and only then did I
notice that beyond a split lip and a bleeding nose and a bruised face, she
was cradling her left arm as well.
“Are you pressing charges?”
She nodded quickly.
“You and Harper have some place to stay tonight?”
She shook her head.
“They’re going to stay with me,” Linda apprised the deputy. “For as
long as they need to.”
“Oh no, Linda. I can’t put you and Thad and the boys in danger if—”
“Thad?” Linda scoffed. “My Thad? Letting any of us be put in danger?”
She chuckled. “Come on, Vi, think about what you’re saying.”
Viola opened her mouth to argue, thought about it a second, and then
closed her mouth.
“Listen,” the deputy began, “Bruce and his cousins aren’t getting out
tonight, and Bruce, certainly, is going to prison on parole violations, plus
what happened with the dogs.”
Viola nodded quickly.
He looked at Linda. “While I know Thad is a scary man, between his
training and those dogs of his, the fact remains that—”
 “All our dogs are angels,” Linda said defensively.
“And scary as all hell,” he countered. “But still, if you have any trouble,
call the station, you understand?”
She pressed her lips together tightly. “So you’re saying if anyone scales
the perimeter fence with the razor wire on top, you’d like us to give you a
jingle?”
He groaned loudly as Viola dissolved into tears, and Linda moved
quickly to take the younger woman into her arms.
“You should have taken me up on my offer the first time this happened,
Vi, but now you’re gonna be just fine until you get back on your feet. That
family commune you live on isn’t a good place for you or Harper or your
dogs.”
“Auntie Linda,” Harper asked, walking up beside her, “your doggies
won’t eat Delilah and Peanut, will they?”
Linda chuckled, cupping the little girl’s bruised cheek gently in her
hand. “No, darling, they love other dogs, just not people who trespass on
their land.”
Harper nodded, smiling.
“And we have six altogether now. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”
“Good Lord,” the deputy groaned.
Linda shot him the fakest smile I’d ever seen.
He grunted. “Viola, you and Harper both need to go to the hospital.
When Tan comes back in after they load up all three of those guys, he’ll
take you on over to the Medical Center.”
She shook her head. “Deputy, I don’t have insurance, only Harper
does.”
“We’ll take care of it. That’s what victim resources are for.”
Quick nod of her head.
Viola looked over at Dr. Coleman then. “I don’t have the money to—”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, cutting her off. “Not to worry.”
“Oh, but you’ve done so much already and—”
“It’s fine,” I said in a gentle yet firm tone, trying to soothe her while
also conveying that I was not taking no for an answer.
She caught her breath. “You’re sure?”
“I am.”
“Then thank you again.”
“You’re very welcome,” I said softly, smiling at her.
 More tears then as her daughter rushed over to me. I wasn’t used to
having little kids hug me, but I patted her on the back and assured her
nothing bad was going to happen again. “Your uncle Thad will keep all of
you safe.”
“Okay,” she whimpered.
When I glanced at Linda, she mouthed a thank-you. I had to wonder if
perhaps Thad could come off a bit gruff to a young person. Maybe my
vouching for him, after I’d saved Harper’s pets, was a good thing.
It took a bit, getting the three men into the cruisers. I watched as the
deputy and his two men, Woosley and Tan, put them in the back of their
utility vehicle, all crowded in together. All three, the deputy said, were
telling the same story about how I’d attacked them. But since there was
security footage from the front of the vet clinic that the deputy collected,
there was no talking their way out of being charged.
The deputy stayed with us while his officers left with the men, taking
them to the detention center in Seaside, where there were others to assist
them.
“So are you the sheriff’s first deputy and the other guys are not
deputies?” I asked, trying to get my head around the hierarchy.
“No,” he replied, looking up from the tablet he was typing on and
meeting my gaze. “We have a chief of police here in Rune, Daniella
Ramirez. She was promoted last year when her predecessor, Gil Brasher,
took a job as the chief of police in Seaside.”
“So he basically moved to a bigger post, and Ramirez moved up. And
the other two guys?”
He grimaced. “Were already here when I transferred.”
“The plot thickens,” I teased him, which wasn’t like me, but he was
smiling and we were talking like regular people, which hadn’t happened to
me in ages. I never met anyone new, but the past few days, between two
sets of marshals and my trip to the vet, had been full of new faces. And the
deputy’s was by far the best.
“Yeah,” he groaned. “Tan and Woosley are good guys. They’re just
not…thinkers?”
I scoffed.
“There’s no way to make that sound any better, and believe me, I’ve
tried.”
“So they’re great at following directions.”
 “Yes. They’re great at executing orders,” he said, jumping on the
compliment. “Just excellent at that.”
“But Ramirez, she needed someone who could think outside the box to
back her up.”
“That’s what she said, yes.”
“And you wanted to live here in Rune for some unfathomable reason.”
He nodded. “I did. I used to live in New York, and I…shit, you don’t
wanna hear my entire life—”
“Yes, I do. Please.”
He searched my face for a moment, took a breath, then said, “I lost a
friend in the line of duty, and once, he was more than just…that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
Slow nod. “After that, doing the same job just wasn’t feasible anymore,
so I looked for a new one as far away from home as possible and finally
ended up here.”
“Do you miss home?”
He squinted at me.
“You said you looked for a new job as far away from home as––”
“I did?”
I nodded.
“Funny,” he husked.
“Because you don’t think of it that way anymore?”
“That’s right,” he agreed. “This is home now.”
“And do you love it here?”
He exhaled deeply. “It’s been a huge change, and I feel like I gave up a
little, like I should have stayed there and stuck it out and—Jesus.”
“What?”
He straightened up from leaning against the counter and looked at me.
“I never just—who are you?”
“Maks,” I said, smiling at him, offering him my hand. “Maks Gorev.” I
was trying out the new name. I had wanted to use my mother’s maiden
name, but that was too close, so instead I used her mother’s, my
grandmother’s, a woman I’d worshipped, which would be a stretch for
anyone to know, even my father. He had never concerned himself with my
maternal family, whereas I knew everyone on my mother’s side.
He took my hand in his, holding on. “I’m Deputy Chief Gale Malloy,
but you can call me Mal, most people around here do.”
 But that couldn’t be right. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at me oddly. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. You don’t look like a Mal,” I replied, admiring his
pale-green eyes that reminded me of jade. My mother had taken me to lots
of museums when I was young, before I was old enough for my father to
take an interest in, and I’d seen so many magnificent carved pieces. “You
look like a Gale.”
His lips parted as he stared at me. “My grandmother, she’s the one who
named me. It was her father’s name.”
“I can stick with Mal if you—”
“No, no,” he cut me off. “Gale is good.”
“Okay,” I said, releasing his hand and shoving both of mine into the
pockets of my jacket so I wouldn’t try and touch him or something.
I really wanted to touch him.
The yearning for another had been dead for so long that it surprised me
with the sudden pulse of need. I wasn’t even sure what to do with that
feeling.
“So what do you do, Maks?”
I sighed. “I have no idea. I’m starting over myself.”
“How funny,” he whispered, like that had surprised him.
“Yeah,” I said, my own voice going out on me.
We just stood there, quiet, staring at each other until he took a breath,
like he was coming up for air from deep underwater, gently shook his head,
and smiled at me.
“So I, um, need you to tell me from the beginning what happened
today.”
And I had a thought: should I call Alvarez? She said to alert her over
anything. Minor, major, and everything in between. Those had been her
orders. But…Bruce and his cousins were already being taken care of by the
local police, and then there was Gale Malloy, whom I had this unfamiliar
urge to get to know better. I was betting that whatever had sent him to Rune
had to do with him and his partner, his lover, working some kind of ongoing
criminal investigation, and since I myself was a criminal, maybe finding
that out would make him take a step back from me. I didn’t want him to
take a step back, I wanted him to take one forward. Hopefully many. I
didn’t want him to have any reason to put any distance between us.
 “Well,” I began, “I was on my way from Portland and just driving, you
know?”
He nodded, and I noted how warm his eyes were on me, how soft. “I do
know.”
“And up the coast, it’s a nice drive, everything is right off the highway,
but I think I took a wrong turn because it went from four lanes to two and
then there was the dog.”
“So you’re the kind of guy who stops for dogs.”
“Of course,” I said, grinning at him. “Isn’t everybody?”
“No,” he said, and his voice sounded rough. “Not at all.”
We were definitely having a moment.
“Sir,” a vet tech I’d never seen before addressed me, and Gale and I
both turned to look at her as she held a wiggling, whining Misha. “Your dog
wants you.”
He was awfully cute to be a cock block.
 SIX

M y plan had been to leave the vet clinic without Misha. I was fairly
certain it was the best thing for him. I knew nothing about having a
pet. I’d never been allowed one—my father felt that caring for an
animal promoted weakness. Later, when I’d seen him kick stray dogs to
death, shoot at cats from his car for fun, I knew better than to put anything
he could possibly harm in his orbit. He was a vicious man in all ways, and
any pet of mine would have been in danger.
Now, faced with taking Misha with me, I realized I probably couldn’t
keep a plant alive, let alone a dog. It was a terrible idea. Conchita—call me
Connie—disagreed. She’d brought me the small white fluff ball because,
she said, he wouldn’t stop howling since I left the back area where the
cages were. I was going to argue, explain what was wrong with this idea,
but the moment I tucked the dog against my chest, he instantly settled,
nuzzling against me before letting out a long, contented sigh.
A chorus of awws swept through the room.
“Oh, Maks,” Gale murmured, reaching out to pet my dog. “He’s crazy
about you.”
“Yeah, but I’m just renting a place, and I haven’t even been there yet. I
have no idea if I’ll even be allowed to keep a pet.”
“You don’t know where you live?”
I shook my head.
“How?”
“I rented it over the phone, sight unseen,” I explained, which was true to
a degree. Technically, Alvarez had rented it, but she hadn’t seen any
pictures either. She’d found me a one-bedroom place in a remote location
where no one would have eyes on me. That was what she’d looked for.
“I’m not positive of the address,” I told him. “But it’s something like
Summerton or Summer Ridge or—”
“Summerland Drive?”
“Yeah, I think that’s it.”
“Interesting. If I’m right, I think you have the empty guest cottage
behind Ada Farley’s place.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“Because I live in the Craftsman to her right. There’s a drive that goes
down the middle, between our places, and I think you’re in the cottage at
the end of it.”
“So we’ll be neighbors,” I concluded.
“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at me.
The two of us, one way or another, would have been meeting today.
Strangest day ever, and because it was how my brain worked, there was
a slight niggle in the back of my mind telling me that being anything but
honest with this man was a bad idea. Nothing based on a lie ever turned out
well anyway.
“I’m sure Ada will let you bring your dog,” Gale assured me. “She’s
feisty, but I can tell you—from seeing all the barn cats she feeds and that
she’s had Dr. Coleman pick up to be fixed and given their shots—that she
loves animals.”
“So yes,” I addressed Connie, “Misha is coming with me.”
“Good. Now since that’s where you’ll be living, Misha will need
protection,” she stated. “There are a lot of things out there dying to make a
meal of a small dog.”
“Out where?”
“Misha needs a vest,” Connie called out, ignoring my question, and I
saw two techs scramble to get whatever it was she’d asked for.
“What vest?” I pressed her. “And out where?”
Gale was chuckling beside me.
She waved her hand dismissively. “Summerland is on the side of the
mountain, and the forest is a bit dense in that area. You don’t want to lose
your baby to predatory birds or a pack of coyotes, now do you?”
“No, of course not, but—”
 “Neon yellow or froggy green?” another tech asked, holding up two
vests, one the color of safety gear on a construction site, the other of little
life jackets I’d seen kids wear into pools. The colors weren’t really the
interesting part. What made the vests stand out was that they were both
covered in a mix of bondage spikes and porcupine quills.
“So? Which one?” Connie prompted, and I realized she was waiting for
me to say something.
“I’m sorry, what are those?”
Long exasperated sigh from Connie. “They are anti-coyote-and-hawk
vests.”
Apparently it was a really stupid question on my part. “Okay,” was all I
could think of to say.
“The spikes on the collar and back stop the birds, the longer needle-like
pieces stop coyotes, other dogs, and any other predators. Clearly, we’ve
modified them.”
“Clearly,” I agreed.
“When we get them from the supplier, there are straps on them and the
spikes are only on the top, but we modify them with a fitted liner so there
are small sharp spikes on the bottom in case your dog gets rolled, not over,
but to their side.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
“The question is now, which color do you prefer?”
Misha would be the laughingstock of the forest dressed in that.
“I’d go with the yellow,” Gale chimed in. “The bushes are green, and
the grass is high in some spots, so…yeah. Yellow makes the most sense.”
I found his logic to be sound.
“Oh, we have purple too,” the tech said as she was joined by another
woman carrying what could only be described as puce, not any shade of
purple I’d ever seen.
“That’s more mauve,” Gale corrected her, but then quickly turned to me.
“But we’re not here to say that color has any gender, it’s not about that.”
“What?”
“I mean, I just don’t care for the mauve, and I think he’d be harder to
see, but if you like it, I say go for it.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now.”
He snorted out a laugh.
“The yellow is great,” I assured Connie.
 “Give him to Shannon so she can try it on him.”
I did as directed, even though Misha let out the saddest little howl.
“I had no idea Morkies did that,” Connie told me. “I think that might
just be yours.”
Great.
“Now tell me, does that Jeep parked out front belong to you?”
“Yes. Why?” I tried not to whine.
They explained there were things to carry to my vehicle and that the
puppy’s car seat had to be installed.
“The dog needs a car seat?”
Connie looked horrified. “Of course he does. What if you’re in an
accident? Do you want him to go flying around and break his neck?”
I didn’t want to be a buzzkill and point out that the last time I was in an
accident, everyone in the car was flying around, belted in or not.
“We’ll get it put in,” she told me, waving a hand at the vet techs.
“So what is Mrs. Farley like?” I asked Gale, because I wanted to keep
him talking. I knew he had to leave soon. He had to go to the police station
and help process his prisoners. Chief Ramirez would have questions for
him. And honestly, if I was right, he would probably stop talking to me after
I came clean.
“It’s Ms.,” he corrected me, “and I would say eccentric but kind. She’s
never been anything but lovely to me, though some of her thoughts come
right out of the clear blue sky.”
“I think she just has a lot going on in her mind at all times,” Connie
chimed in. “Sometimes it gets stuck and all comes out at once. My
daughter’s the same way.”
“I think it’s because she’s rich,” another tech offered as she walked by.
“I mean, they’re always a bit different, don’tcha think?”
“You’re all wrong,” Linda said, throwing in her two cents. “She’s a
lovely woman, period. She just needs to do something about that house.”
Connie groaned. “That right there is the God’s honest truth. That
crumbling castle of hers is going to kill her someday.”
“While I agree that she’s a very kind woman,” Dr. Coleman countered
as he walked back into the room, “I do think she’s unwell. If I had to guess,
I’d say there’s some OCD there, and she might be agoraphobic, but I also
suspect some cognitive dissonance. Things she says and does just don’t add
up sometimes.”
 It was interesting the way everyone had a theory about the woman.
Since I’d never even laid eyes on her, I would have to wait and see.
“But I’m not a psychiatrist,” he threw out as he crossed the room, on his
way to see another patient, I assumed.
“No, you’re not,” Gale agreed, sounding a bit annoyed.
“Maks,” Dr. Coleman said, clearing his throat and shooting Gale a look
I couldn’t read. He turned to me before he opened the door. “Please don’t be
a stranger. We’d love to have you visit anytime.”
“Thank you.” It was a nice thing to say.
“Perhaps we can get a bite next time you’re here.”
He was a handsome man, and he clearly liked the look of me, going by
his smile and the way I’d caught him staring more than once. But the thing
was, there was a very hefty-looking platinum wedding band on his left
hand, so all we could be was friends. Though friends were something I was
going to try and have more of. “That’d be great.”
“We have your number, so I’ll call,” he said, opening the door to a
greeting of instant barking, then closing it behind him.
“Well, now,” Linda said, arching a judgmental eyebrow. “When you
have that bite, maybe you’ll get to meet the doctor’s husband.”
Gale grunted.
“Oh, I hope so,” I told her, and she uncrossed her arms and nodded at
me.
“This is like a bad movie,” Gale muttered under his breath.
There was howling suddenly, and when I looked around, I saw that a
little girl had picked up Misha, who had apparently been put down, and she
strolled out with him into the lobby. I needed to keep a better eye on him.
Or whatever vet tech had lost him did.
“I’m so sorry,” one of the techs said, darting up to the front. “I only took
my eyes off him for a second.”
“It’s fine,” I reassured her.
“The good news is, the vest fits perfect,” she told me cheerfully.
“The bad news is he’s being dognapped,” Gale teased me.
“Oh, honey, he’s not yours,” an elegant woman in a pink sweater set
complete with pearls told the child with her same gold curls.
“But I want a puppy,” the girl said, stomping her foot.
“Yes, but you’re allergic to anything with fur,” her mother reminded her
just as she sneezed, and then did it again.
 The girl obediently if reluctantly handed him over to the waiting tech.
“He’s super cute,” the girl said, and sneezed again.
“Yes, he is,” Connie agreed, glancing at her mother.
“She’s okay as long as she doesn’t touch them,” she said, likely feeling
compelled to explain to all of us in the vicinity why her daughter had come
with her and their two bearded dragons.
I smiled at her, then returned my attention to Connie. “Do you want a
card for Mrs. Berry’s dogs, or do you just want to call me when they’re
ready to go home and—”
“Oh no. We’ll take care of the bill for the dogs, Maks. You took care of
all of us, and we appreciate you. I will take a payment for registering
Misha’s microchip, though.”
So I paid for that because she wasn’t about to take my money for
anything else.
Misha was howling again until the vet tech gave him to me, and then he
licked my nose and settled, looking at Gale, who reached over and petted
him.
“He’s gonna be a handful.”
“Oh, I know,” I grumbled.
Gale coughed softly. “Maybe don’t have lunch with Dr. Coleman.”
I looked up from my dog to his face. “No?”
He shook his head. “I’ll take you to lunch. Don’t bother the nice vet.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling at him.
“I’ll come get your number when I see you at home.”
I waited for what he’d said to sink in.
“I mean,” he amended, “I’ll come by your place when I get home.”
“Sounds good,” I assured him.
It was funny how when he walked out with the rifle, he misjudged the
door and walked into the glass. Correcting, he gave me an awkward wave
and left.
“He’s right, you know,” Connie said, looking up at me over the rim of
her glasses.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t have lunch with Dr. Coleman. Have it with him instead. Dr.
Coleman’s an amazing vet but a terrible flirt. The deputy chief is a fine
man.”
I nodded.
 “And very easy on the eyes.”
He was that.
“All right, now to Misha.”
Suddenly she was all business, and I did a slow pan and looked at her.
“What about him?”
“We have things to go over.”
“Like what?”
“So many things, dear.”
She wasn’t even kidding. We had to talk about his shots, when he
needed more of them, and how often. There was a flea-and-tick pill that had
to be taken monthly. On schedule. Not to be missed. There were bells I
needed to put on the door so he could jingle them when he needed to go out.
He’d been trained to do that, and I needed to keep that up. It was also
important that when I walked him, he was in his harness so I didn’t choke
him. He also needed to be clipped into his seat in the car, that had already
been installed, so he couldn’t jump out.
She just kept going, occasionally stopping so I could sign something on
her tablet.
They had given him a collar made out of soft, pliable seat-belt material,
so very durable and comfy, and he had a rabies vaccine tag that was blue
and another tag with my name and number on it. Not his, just mine.
“Why not his?” I asked Shannon, who had taken over from Connie
because now we were talking about all the stuff that had been loaded up in
the car for me. She was telling me, in detail, that while some people swore
by an extendable leash, the vet techs did not because you couldn’t put
immediate tension on it if something unforeseen occurred.
“He’s a small dog, so if an unleashed dog comes after him when you’re
walking, you want to be able to yank him back to you immediately. The
extendable leash could get tangled or stuck. Things happen, so a regular one
is best.”
“Okay, but—”
“And as for the name on the tag, you don’t want someone to know his
name in case they want to keep him. Little dogs get stolen a lot. Some to be
bait dogs,” she whispered, covering Misha’s ears. “Others because they’re
so cute and people just grab them up. So that’s why it’s only your name on
the tag. Plus, when someone calls, if you ever lose him, you can tell them
his name, and when he responds, they’ll know he’s yours.”
 “But he doesn’t know his name is Misha.”
At which point Shannon said, “Baby,” using the old name from his
previous owners. Misha continued to look at the people walking behind me.
“Misha,” she said, and he turned right to her, waiting.
“That’s only because you said Baby like you were dying and Misha all
happy, using a high-pitched voice.”
“I did, you’re right, but I don’t think it matters,” she said, chuckling.
I shook my head at her.
“He knows that’s his name. Dogs are very smart and pick their people
just like we pick them. Make no mistake.”
I thought perhaps it had more to do with how his previous owners had
treated him, but I went for practical instead. “You realize I don’t even know
if Ada Farley will let me have a dog.”
She waved her hand at me. “She will. I’ve been buying pottery from
that woman for years, and I can say with all confidence that she loves
animals. Last time I was there, I saw at least ten cats lounging around the
steps of her house, and she feeds the crows that sit on top of her little studio
out back.”
“Studio?”
“Where do you think she makes the pottery?”
I scowled at her. “I’m sorry my brain didn’t make that leap fast
enough,” I said sarcastically.
“That’s all right,” she consoled me.
God.
“You’ll get caught up, honey.”
Now I was being placated. “Is her stuff any good?” I asked for a change
of subject from me being slow.
“Oh yes. I use my plates and platters and mugs and cups all the time.
It’s all microwave and dishwasher safe. I love it. I’ve told her she should
sell it every Saturday at the farmer’s market at the center of town, but
there’s the loading and unloading and the setup, and she doesn’t have
anyone to help her.”
“Why not?”
“Well, she doesn’t get along with everyone. No matter what they all said
in there, she’s a bit prickly, kind of odd. I can be around her long enough to
pick out and pay for pottery but not any longer.”
“Because why?”
 “Her conversation sort of flits from one thing to another, and it’s hard to
follow.”
It was interesting information.
“So Misha will probably be good living with me is what you’re saying.”
“I would think so, yes.”
It was honestly fine either way. If Ms. Farley said she didn’t want Misha
in the house she was renting to me, I could find another place to stay. I
wasn’t worried.
“Shoot,” Shannon said, passing me a set of something, some kind of
tools, and another bag of small boxes. “Almost forgot your poop scooper.”
I looked at Connie, who nearly choked on her water.
“Oh my God, your face,” she cackled.
Now, fifteen minutes later, I turned off the main highway down a
frontage road and then off that onto a tight two-lane road. The heavy brush
and trees on both sides looked like they’d grown together over the years to
create a giant canopy of shade. I could have sworn the temperature had
dropped ten degrees. There were wildflowers every direction I looked, and
it smelled so good and fresh, like wind and newly turned soil.
The road came to a dead end at a gravel drive that had a charming
Craftsman house painted in a myriad of colors on the right, which had to be
Gale’s place. It had a white picket fence lined in rose bushes on the house
side of the fence and a charming gate out front with a yard that included an
enormous oak tree. There were boxwoods next to the front porch, and
gorgeous, full limelight hydrangeas. The path that went from the gate to the
steps leading up to the porch was immaculately laid brick. I was very
impressed with how beautifully manicured the man’s house appeared.
In contrast, on the left of the gravel drive, just as Gale had said, was a
three-storied Gothic nightmare that looked haunted. Several decades ago,
the Victorian might have been beautiful. Maybe there had been flowers
outside, but now it was wildly overgrown, and you’d need a machete to get
through to the front door. There could be a whole safari worth of animals in
there, and you’d never know. A redwood guarded the front of the house,
and it looked like there were at least two more in the back. Farther down the
drive was a smaller building directly behind the terrifying Victorian
eyesore, and even farther back was a small bungalow with trees on every
side. It was absolutely picturesque, and I had a gut reaction to seeing the
house. I really wanted to live there.
 When I got out of the Jeep, parking it directly on the drive, Misha
barked, and I quickly walked around, unclipped him from his seat, and
picked him up. Only then did I realize he was shivering.
“Crap,” I muttered, putting him back down, then unzipped my jacket,
grabbed him again, and deposited him inside, against my chest, supporting
him from underneath so he was tucked into a pouch of warmth.
“You know, I’ll bet you money they put a jacket in there for you. It’s
probably cheetah print or something equally ridiculous.”
He didn’t care, he was fine now, and poked his head out so he could
look around.
“I should probably look inside and—oh shit,” I gasped, noticing what I
thought was a body between the house and the studio. I hadn’t seen it until I
got out and started walking. Of course it was just my luck that Ms. Farley
would end up dead when I got there. I could just imagine trying to explain
that to Deputy Marshal Alvarez.
Bolting toward the corpse, I did what I always did and glanced around,
looking for danger, really missing a gun at that point.
When I reached the body of the older woman, standing directly over
her, I was about to crouch down and check for a pulse when I noted the arm
thrown across her eyes and heard snoring. She was very much alive. And
very much asleep.
Leaning over, I gently shook her. “Hello.”
Moving her arm down to her side, she opened her eyes and looked right
up at me. After a moment, she smiled. Not what I was expecting at all. She
was a stunning woman, an aging star of the silver screen with her thick,
wavy platinum hair like a cloud around her head. She was dressed in paint-
splattered denim overalls that were a bit at odds with the Chanel blouse she
was wearing under them, the enormous diamond studs, diamond choker,
and gold cross inlaid with emeralds. She was wearing hunter-green
sequined slippers on her feet.
“Hello,” she replied cheerfully, sitting up, then lifting her hand, shading
her eyes so she could see me. “Are you a pirate?”
Strangest question ever. “No,” I said even though it took me a second.
Really, she looked like an angel, or what I thought one would look like
staring up at me.
“You look like one,” she said, offering me her hand so I could help her
up. “And I mean that in the best way, of course. Very romantic, like a
swashbuckler.”
I nodded. As compliments went, with the context she’d given me, I
couldn’t complain.
Her platinum hair had bits of grass in it and a few twigs.
“Can I help get all the stuff out of your hair?”
“Is it going to bother you?”
Honesty in all things. “Yes.”
“All right, then,” she agreed, turning around so I could get to work.
“Would you mind holding him?” I asked, passing Misha to her. He went
willingly.
“Oh, what a darling dog. I was just telling Evelyn and Loretta that we
needed a protector on the place, and look what the universe has delivered.”
“Evelyn and Loretta?”
She waved her hand to the left, and I saw four sheep there, all looking
recently sheared.
“There’s four of them,” I pointed out. Not to be an ass but just for
correctness in case she couldn’t see them or hadn’t noticed the others.
“Yes, but I don’t normally discuss matters to do with the homestead
with Beverly and Gwen. They’re much more interested in the weather and
that lovely Deputy Chief Malloy.”
I too was interested in Deputy Chief Malloy.
“They really want to pop into his yard and eat the grass and his flowers,
but he keeps that gate shut all the time.”
“Gotcha.”
“Very private, very closed-off young man.”
“Young?”
“Well, younger than me, dear.”
“Okay.”
“How are we coming along back there?”
I’d pulled out all the twigs and leaves, and there was just a bit of grass
left. “I think you’re good,” I said, and she turned to face me. “Oh my, yes,
they are lovely, aren’t they?”
“Pardon?” I noted she didn’t immediately pass Misha back to me, and
unlike when other people at the vet clinic had held him, he wasn’t
squirming to get away. He looked pretty content, actually.
“You have the most beautiful dark eyes I’ve ever seen.”
What was I supposed to say to that? “Thank you.”
 “And who, might I ask, is this handsome creature?”
“That’s Misha.”
“What a charming name you have.” She petted my dog, holding him
gently as she started walking away, back toward the drive.
“Ma’am, I’m Maks Gorev, your new renter,” I said, darting after her.
“And caretaker, yes, I understand.”
“Caretaker?”
“Well, yes,” she said, still walking, and I realized it wasn’t toward her
front yard, but toward my Jeep. “That’s what it said in the ad I placed. I
need someone to coordinate all the different people needed for the upkeep
of the grounds and, of course, the renovations on the house”—she looked at
me then, and I had the weirdest feeling that she was looking right through
me, pinning me with her gaze—“but only if you think there should be
renovations. I might be wrong. Perhaps it’s fine, but there is a me-shaped
hole in the living room ceiling that I fell through last Tuesday. Or
Wednesday. I get the days confused when there’s no party. I used to have so
many, but then Oscar hasn’t been here to throw any more, you know?” She
was looking at me expectantly.
“It’s hard when the event organizer isn’t around,” was all I could think
of to say.
“Yes, it really is,” she agreed. “Now, I don’t want to tell you your job,
but—wait, are you an event planner by any chance?”
She was so earnest with all her questions and the way she looked at me
each time, really looking for these ridiculous answers, like the pirate one, I
understood why Dr. Coleman thought there was something actually wrong
with her. But the thing was, she reminded me a bit of my mother. People
had always thought she was a bit scattered, like topics didn’t always stick in
her head and she flitted from one to another. I had always loved it. So had
my brother. The conversation was never dull. I was out of practice with the
jumping around, but I was thinking I could pick it right back up being
around this woman whom I already liked.
“I’m not, no,” I said softly.
“That’s too bad. But do you have lots of friends?”
“I don’t. I do want to make some, though.”
“It’s always good to have friends,” she said kindly. “And you know,
there’s a fund for the upkeep that’s been growing since our last caretaker
left. So if you do see things that need to be fixed, then you should do that.”
 The topic changes were going to give me whiplash until I learned to
pivot again. I cleared my throat. “When did your caretaker leave?”
“What year is this now?”
Oh dear God. “It’s—”
“He left in the summer of ninety-two, I believe.”
Shit. “So there’s been no one looking at the house for over thirty
years?”
“Really? Thirty?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thirty. Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
“I do, ma’am.”
“Call me Ada, dear. Well…that might account for the front yard being a
bit overgrown.”
A bit overgrown had to be the understatement of the century. The only
thing keeping her front yard from spilling out onto the rest of the property
was the five-foot wrought-iron fence that went around three sides.
“We should probably go to the bank now, dear, and get everything
sorted out,” she said as we reached my Jeep, where she leaned into the
back, rooted around in the bags, and found a little red parka for Misha.
“Here we are.”
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“Well, it’s cold for a small dog, so he needs a jacket, and then a harness,
which is also here, wonderful,” she announced happily as she put him in his
car seat and started putting on his coat. “And the harness is necessary
because clearly, he’s too small for you to be yanking him around by his
neck.”
“’Course.”
“And finally, he needs to be on a leash because you don’t want to lose
him in the brush.”
“I—”
“You don’t want him falling off the side of the mountain, do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh, darling, what did we say about that?”
“Yes. Sorry. Ada.”
“We have to be on a first-name basis. You’re my caretaker, after all.”
“I—”
“And what is Maks short for? Maximilian, Maksim, what?”
 Interesting. “Maksim, actually.”
“Wonderful,” she said, and then in beautifully flowing, fluid Russian,
asked me if I had gotten my gorgeous midnight-black eyes from my mother
or my father.
“My mother,” I replied, fishing out my locket and showing her the
picture. Why I felt compelled to do so, I had no idea.
“Oh, what a stunning woman she is,” she gasped.
“Was,” I said sadly.
“Is, darling,” she corrected me. “Your mother has just stepped around
the corner, you understand? Just in another room, as is my dear Oscar. Out
of sight, not out of mind.”
“That’s true.”
“There, you see?” Her smile was really beautiful. “And look, now
Misha is ready for an adventure,” she announced. “But first, we must pee.”
She put him down, holding his leash, and walked him a few feet from
the Jeep toward a maple tree. I heard her tell him the coyotes peed there so
it would be good for him to start marking his territory. He looked up at her
like yeah, okay, and then lifted his leg and let loose. When he was done, she
praised him, scooped him up, and returned to me. She put him in his seat,
took off the leash, clipped him into his seat, and then got into the back.
“I can move Misha so you can—”
“Oh, heavens no. He needs to learn his way around so he can navigate
his way home if something untoward were to occur.”
“Something—”
“What if he’s taken, then escapes, and must find his way back to you?”
“Well, he’s a—”
“It’s vital that he get the lay of the land so he can return,” she said
authoritatively, putting on her seat belt. “And besides, it would be a real
pain to move it.”
That was true.
“Are we ready to go now, darling?”
“Yeah.”
“Huzzah!”
Starting the car, making sure to put on my own seat belt, I slowly
backed up.
“I’m sure we’ll be home before dark,” she announced. “We’re only
going to the bank. And perhaps to the deli, and then we’ll come right back
home. You just need to be able to get some work done, as I think I have bats
in the attic.”
“Bats?”
“Hmm.”
I wasn’t ready to look. “The front yard needs some attention, don’t you
think?”
“Oh my, yes. I think there’s wolves in there.”
Probably not.
“But you’re Russian, so no doubt you’ll get along swimmingly with
them.”
I turned in my seat to look at her.
She pulled a hair tie from the right pocket of her overalls and said,
“Darling, we need to go. I’m hungry, and I’m sure Misha is as well.”
“You don’t even know me. What if—what if I’m a bad man?”
She squinted at me. “Dear, why on earth would the universe send me a
bad man? Oscar already saved me from one, which is how we ended up out
here in the wilds of Oregon. I mean, really, you have no idea what a shock
this was to the system after living on the Upper West Side.”
“Which city?”
“New York, dear.”
“Okay,” I said, exhaling sharply. “Which bank am I going to?”
“The only bank in town.” The way she said it, like she was just a bit
exasperated with all the questions, I couldn’t help but smile.
And she wasn’t wrong. Rune had only one bank. It was small,
charming, beautifully maintained, but I was guessing it had to be, given the
plaque outside proclaiming it a protected historical building.
Inside, the bank manager himself rushed across the lobby to greet us,
not saying a word about Misha trotting along beside Ada. All three of us
were taken to his desk, and my dog had his own chair because why not?
Ada then proceeded to explain to him that I was her new caretaker, and
she had me hand over my driver’s license so he could put me on her
account.
“Ms. Farley, there’s a lot of people on this account and many, many
withdrawals.”
“Really?” She sounded neither bothered nor surprised. “Well, isn’t that
extraordinary.”
 “Would you like Mr. Gorev to now be the only one on the account
besides you?”
“Yes. I think that would be prudent.”
“I’ll disable all other access immediately.”
“Excellent,” she agreed. “And if you would be so kind as to make sure
that Maks has access to the safety-deposit box, that would be good as well.”
“Let me get him a signature card.”
She nodded, and I had to not only sign, but pick a pin so I could access
the box. I then received my own key because Ada had no earthly idea where
hers was, and all of us, including Misha, went back into the vault and then
into a side room I was guessing most people weren’t invited into. I’d only
ever seen gilded leather chairs in one of my father’s mistresses’ living
rooms before, but the real surprise was the box that was brought in that was
much bigger than my old one, and I’d kept binders and file folders in mine.
Inside there were more black-velvet boxes than I’d seen in my life. My
mother’s jewelry boxes, kept safe in a vault in Germany that no one but me
would ever know about, were no match for Ada’s horde. She had the bank
manager, Mr. Raleigh, open a few for me, and there were diamond pendants
and strings of pearls and sapphires and rubies… Honestly, it was like being
in the gem room at the Field Museum in Chicago. There had to be millions
of dollars of stones in that box. There was also a stack of bearer bonds, and
when I glanced at Mr. Raleigh, his face said it all. She was trusting me, so
he hoped I deserved it.
Once everything was back in its place, we returned to his desk, and he
had my name added to all her accounts and gave me the access. When I
logged in, Ada having taken Misha outside for a quick walk, I finally saw
the bank account itself.
“Seriously?” I said, looking at the balance of twenty-seven million
dollars.
He nodded. “Her family helped build the railroads, Mr. Gorev. That’s
old, old money from steel and oil. The rest of the family has diversified
now, and they’re worth billions. Ada was sent here, to Oregon, in the late
seventies, from what I understand, pregnant with a child out of wedlock, the
black sheep of the family, and she never left.”
He was a bad man, that was what Ada had said. Oscar had saved her
from him. That was all I knew so far. “What happened to her child?”
Raleigh looked at me oddly. “You don’t know the story?”
 “What story?”
“Well, you’re young and just newly moved to town, so that makes
sense.”
“Please tell me,” I prodded him.
His sigh was deep, almost sad. “Ada’s daughter had ridden her bike into
town and then didn’t come home. There was a huge search, all the agencies,
plus local law enforcement, but no trace of the little girl, who was six at the
time, was ever found.”
Not being a parent myself, I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child,
but my mother had always said that she would need to go into the ground as
well if she ever lost either me or Pasha.
“What year was that?”
“Nineteen eighty-four. Years later, I want to say ninety-six, the police
got a report about a man lying in the middle of River Road, and when they
went to check it out, they found Hugh Evans dead in the street.”
“Just a body on the road.”
Quick tip of his head.
“Was he hit by a car?”
“No. The official report in the local paper said he was beaten, then
strangled.”
“Holy shit.”
“Indeed.”
“Okay, so who was this Hugh Evans?”
“Well, when they searched his house after his death, the remains of
thirteen children were found in his basement.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry.”
“We all were.”
“And one of the kids was Ms. Farley’s daughter?”
“Yes. Libby Farley was the youngest one taken.”
“I could have lived my whole life not hearing that story,” I told him.
“I know, but what I find interesting is that Hugh was a big man, strong,
but somehow he winds up dead, in the street.”
“Did the police look for his killer?”
“Oh yes, but eventually the case went cold. And the feeling in the
community was that he got what he deserved.”
“Without question,” I agreed.
 “But the interesting part I was speaking of was that Oscar Farley, Ada’s
brother, came to live with her earlier that same year that Hugh Evans was
murdered.”
Wait. “You think what, that Oscar Farley somehow figured out what
Evans had done and killed him?”
“I do. And as the years passed, a lot of people thought so too.”
“Was he ever charged?”
He shook his head. “No. And everyone adored Oscar. He was one of
those charming, bright, effervescent people who lit up a room. There were
always people coming from Portland to the parties he and Ada threw, and
they had houseguests who stayed through the winter with them. Every room
in the house was filled. It was wild all the way up until Oscar passed in
2012.”
“What happened?”
“A continuous cocktail of alcohol and drugs finally did in his heart and
liver. And that horrible pipe of his. Never saw him without it.”
“You said Evans was a big guy. Was Oscar?”
“No, that’s the thing. He was tall but thin, almost delicate, like Ada. I
think that’s what always made people think it couldn’t have been him.”
“But Oscar had lots of friends, you said.”
“He did. And as you know, in a rage, people are capable of terrifying
things.”
That was true as well. I’d seen it for myself first-hand. “When Oscar
was alive, was there a caretaker?”
“Yes, and a housekeeper and several maids.”
“And they all left after he died?”
“That I don’t know. I do know that she’s been alone for years. She
hasn’t visited the bank in at least seven years.”
This was crazy. All of it.
“I have concerns about being the only one in charge of this amount of
money,” I told him. “I mean, is there an accountant or anyone who oversees
where it goes?”
“All you have to do is look at all the withdrawals to know there’s not.”
“I need some names of reputable people from you. Please.”
“Certainly. I’ll email them.”
“Thank you. I’m worried about how many people have been robbing
her blind.”
 “Many, I would guess. There has been almost ten million taken out in
the last year.”
“Jesus.” It was an enormous amount of money. “I’m surprised no one
else wanted the caretaker job.”
“I don’t think there’s a job posting anywhere. It’s just the house rental,
and there aren’t too many people who want to live in a tiny town on the
Oregon coast out in the middle of nowhere. I mean, the closest city to us is
Seaside, which is not exactly big.”
“True.”
“Though I doubt anyone would have signed up to be a caretaker either.
It’s not an easy job. I suspect you’re in for a rough road.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second. But whatever I was about to get into
would keep me busy. And I needed to be busy until I could find my
bearings.
“But I’m glad she found you. You seem like an excellent choice.”
He’d known me less than an hour but thought I was swell. I had to
wonder if there was something in the air that made everyone so trusting.
“You know,” he continued, “with me suspending all other account
holders but you and Ada, I would prepare to be inundated with phone calls
and perhaps even visits. People will come out of the woodwork, and your
name is first.”
“People will want to talk to Ada.”
“But you see, Ada’s had staff all her life. She’ll defer to your judgment
first, and everyone who knows her understands that. There’s no getting
around you to her. She’d find that rude.”
This sounded like it was about to be terrible.
“I suspect there will be an onslaught.”
“Great.”
“And of course, that money will rise again with the next deposit.”
“Sorry?”
“Her trust pays her quarterly, and that money, which runs between three
and a half to four million, is then deposited into her account.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Why would I— Mr. Gorev, these are facts. Why would I kid about
money?”
He wouldn’t. He was a banker.
“What if I were some grifter or—”
 “Ms. Farley has always struck me as a keen judge of character.”
“Oh, has she? How many people were on the account?”
He snorted out a laugh. “Well, yes, you’ve got me there.”
Everyone who had anything to do with Ada Farley was nuts.
“Don’t forget to set up the banking app on your phone, Maks. I texted
you the link. It will be so much easier than driving into town all the time.”
He was acting like it was so far out of my way when it was minutes
from Ada’s door to the one at the bank. “I’ll make sure I get that done,” I
promised.
“Your credit and bank cards should be arriving in a few days by private
courier. We’re not going to trust the mail with something like that.”
Heaven forbid.
Before I could leave, he leaned forward and offered me his hand.
I took it begrudgingly because he really wasn’t grasping the insanity of
this entire situation, and in my opinion, I should have been vetted just a bit
better.
Outside, I found Ada and Misha walking up the street toward me. She
was carrying an ice-cream cone, and suddenly she stopped, crouched down,
let Misha lick some of it, then stood back up, started licking it herself, and
continued on. I was crazy about my new pet, but I was not about to share
food with him. Not like that.
When she saw me, she waved, and Misha danced up to me, front paws
up on my leg, yipping at me until I picked him up.
“Should he have ice cream?” I asked her.
“This is frozen yogurt,” she replied drolly. “I would never give him ice
cream; it has far too much fat content.”
Of course it did.
“And now we need to run over to the deli,” she directed me. “This is so
lovely. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I was in town. Starfish is
now some kind of vegan diner, and the last time I was in town it was an
apothecary that also sold lovely mugs. It’s just crazy.”
As we walked down the street, her holding my arm, she explained how
when she first arrived, there was hardly anything in town but an abandoned
lumber mill that had since been turned into a beautiful museum with a
trolley that went up and down the side of the mountain. There were
restaurants up there, a skating rink, and some charming art galleries.
 “You know, initially, I was going to buy the Stabler Manor, but it was a
bit dull for my taste. I prefer the Gothic style, as you can tell from looking
at Douglas.”
“Douglas?”
“Yes, dear, the house. That’s its name. It means dark water in Gaelic.”
“Maybe we just call it Doug until it gets fixed up.”
That was apparently hysterical, and she laughed all the way down the
street.
“You came from New York to Rune you said?” I asked her.
“Why yes. I got pregnant with my angel by a man who turned out to be
simply a horror,” she explained, giving me a bittersweet smile. “You know,
he even tried to tumble me down the stairs in my parents’ mansion after I
told him about the baby.”
Instantly, I clutched her arm tight. The news she gave me was horrible
no matter how unaffected she sounded. And I understood. To her, it was
ancient history, but to me, it was all brand new. I had the need to protect her
even from her past.
She patted my arm. “It’s all right, darling. My parents, of course, didn’t
believe me. He was from a very good family, and they wanted to be rid of
me. But Oscar did and he took care of it. Bygones I say.”
I had to wonder about her brother. For someone everyone liked, he
sounded a bit scary. There was more to him than met the eye.
“Oh here we are,” Ada announced happily.
The deli—the Lumberyard—reminded me of Chicago, and I was
instantly homesick when we walked in and the smells hit me. It was noisy
and loud too, which I also liked. There was a step up that ran the length of
glass cases so you could talk to the men in white aprons and hats behind the
counter. I was surprised at how busy it was, the town was tiny, after all, but
there were a lot of tourists, I could tell from the clothes and bewildered
faces. I saw one of the men duck into the back, and suddenly a woman
popped her head out and yelled Ada’s name.
Her name was Sadie Matal, Ada told me, and she had owned the deli for
as long as Ada had known her.
“Oh, Maks,” Mrs. Matal said, smiling at me, “so glad Ada has a new
caretaker. That house…heavens. Have you seen the bats?”
“No, ma’am, not yet.”
 “I think you will need many men with the…the suits, because they shit
up there, yes?” She looked at me hard like I should have been taking notes.
“I’m going to have the house inspected, hopefully tomorrow.”
“Good. Watch out for the snakes in the grass out front. Keep your baby
out of there.”
She meant Misha.
“Now tell me, do you like pastrami?”
“I love pastrami.”
“Good, good. I knew you did.” She smiled and pinched my cheek.
“Such a handsome boy. What is it you want delivered and what do you want
to take with you? Just give me a list.”
I had no idea.
“I’ll have you come in and pay monthly. Most people, I keep a card on
file, but this is Ada, and one look at you and I know you’ll do right by me.”
That was nuts. How did she know? How did Connie just assume I could
take care of a dog? How did Mr. Raleigh decide I would be good with
Ada’s money? How did Mrs. Matal take one look at me, smile, and think of
course he’s good? And Misha. People were always talking about the almost
mystical quality of a dog’s judgment, so Misha should have perceived the
blood and death on me on some spiritual level. But no. He just picked me
and said c’mon, let’s go home. It was all just a lot.
No one saw the man who had taken the gun from his father at fifteen
and ended a life.
I needed the day to stop. I needed to go home, to bed, and decompress.
The issue was, I didn’t even know if I had one.
 SEVEN

W hen we got home, it was a little after five in the afternoon. I was
surprised to already see Gale’s cruiser sitting under his carport to
the right of his house.
“Is it okay if I drive out to my place?” I asked Ada. “I noticed there’s no
path here.”
“Oh, there used to be,” she assured me. “It’s just been so long. But yes,
drive out, just mind the sheep.”
“The sheep that are way over there?”
“Yes,” she said sweetly, completely missing my sarcasm.
When Ada was out of the car, instead of putting Misha on his leash, she
put him down. He was on the run fast, bolting away from her.
“Hey,” I yelled, but he kept going, streaking toward Gale, who was
outside the back gate of his yard, behind his house, down on one knee,
waiting for my dog.
Misha leaped into his arms.
“That’s so sweet,” Ada cooed.
Once the greeting happened, complete with kisses, Misha stepped out of
the way like a gentleman, relieved himself, and then trotted back to me.
Gale was right behind him, jogging, and when he reached me, I got a
smile that rolled right through me.
“Hey,” he greeted me. “I was going to offer to do some cooking tonight
for both of you if you wanted to join me for dinner.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Ada told him. “It’s why I got you
brisket from the Lumberyard, since I know you love it.”
 He appeared stunned. “You did?”
“Of course, dear. Do you think I would just invite you to watch us eat?”
He thanked her, then asked me, “Have you been in your place yet?”
“No.”
Ada gasped. “Oh my goodness, I haven’t even shown you your house.”
She clutched her heart. “What you must think of me.”
“No, no,” I soothed her, scooping up my dog. “I’d just like to see it, and
I need to get Misha settled.”
“We’ll do that right now,” she agreed. “Do you have the keys? Gale had
to help me find them and I asked him to put them in the mail to whoever
rented it for you.”
“Where did you have them?”
“In a drawer in the kitchen. It was very clever of him to look there.”
It seemed a reasonable place to start, at least to me.
“I do have the keys,” I told her.
“Well, good. Perhaps give them to Deputy Chief Malloy so he can take
the food into your new house.”
“He’s not on staff,” I told her, but Gale chuckled in response as he came
up beside me.
“Gimme the keys, Maks.”
I pulled them from the pocket of my jeans and passed them to him.
“Cute keychain,” he commented, smirking at me.
“It’s not mine,” I grumbled even as I didn’t miss him looking me up and
down, eyes lingering, before his gaze met mine.
“I like it,” he murmured, and already I was a big fan of his low, husky
voice.
Gale went to the car and got all the food out while Ada and I went
toward the small bungalow. He then made a second trip and took in all of
Misha’s things, plus my duffel. It was very thoughtful of him.
Ada said, “You know, for the winter, since you have a car, you should
probably have whoever does the renovations on my house build a carport.”
“That’s a good idea,” Gale called over. “The snow gets deep.”
“I have things to show you just quickly outside,” Ada explained.
I put Misha down, and he decided that he wanted to see what Gale was
doing and so ran to catch up, following him through the same kind of white
picket gate that the man had around his place, up the stairs and into the
house.
 “You’re going to love it here,” Ada promised as we strolled.
“I have no doubt,” I replied softly.
She seemed so pleased.
In minutes, Gale came running out of the house, Misha right behind
him, catching up to Ada and me easily.
“You built the fence and the gate around my place too?” I asked him.
“I did,” he replied, with a sigh. “I thought that if there were pets, like
Misha, a small yard would be good. I was trying to make the place look a
bit more inviting. Ada’s needed a caretaker for a while.”
“So when I said I rented this, you knew there was a job that went along
with it?”
“Yeah.” He squinted then. “Wait, you didn’t?”
I shook my head.
His grin made his eyes sparkle. “Oh man, I would have told you.”
“Well, none of that matters now,” Ada said dismissively, brushing him
off, slipping her arm into mine. “He’s here now, and he’s staying.”
“I certainly hope so,” Gale said under his breath, before he bolted away
and Misha yipped excitedly and went tearing after him.
“You see that over there?” Ada asked, directing my attention to the
barn. It was hard to do as she asked when all I really wanted to do was stare
at the man who seemed to like both me and my dog. “Mal commissioned
that for the girls a couple of years ago. I paid for it, but it was built to his
specifications,” she explained. “He’s been very helpful.”
I glanced over to the porch where I thought he’d be, but the front door
was open and both he and Misha had disappeared inside.
Ada continued to explain that Peter Kay, a local farmer who kept
alpacas and sheep, came out and sheared the girls every spring. He, like
Ada, kept his sheep for life—no selling them to slaughterhouses when they
got a bit older and didn’t produce as much wool. They were his pets, like
Ada’s. Dr. Coleman also made house calls and gave the sheep all their shots
and kept them healthy. Ada made sure they got locked in at night and fed
and watered.
She made it clear I was not needed to take over that task. “I’m capable
of calling the girls in and making certain they’re locked in for the night.”
“How old are you, Ada?”
“A lady never tells,” she teased me. “Let’s just say I was born in the
midfifties.”
 “Okay,” I said, smiling at her.
“Now, at night, some of the cats sleep in the barn with the sheep and
some sleep in my studio. It’s fine. We just don’t want the bats in there, or
coyotes or anything else.”
“Got it.”
“You’ll have to speak to Misha about how chasing the cats is a no-no, as
well as the rabbits, squirrels, opossums, chipmunks, and groundhogs.”
Or I could just make sure he didn’t do it by training him.
She pointed out her pottery studio then, which was more or less behind
Gale’s house. She explained how there was a kiln in there and lots of
shelves for her finished pieces.
“You can go in and grab anything you need.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, your eyes are really the most lovely shade of black, like
melty onyx.”
I had no idea if that was a good thing or not.
“It’s a good thing,” she assured me. “Though it would be a hard color to
make into a glaze,” she concluded, her eyebrows furrowing as if she were
perplexed.
“Well, you can work on mixing up different colors until you get it.”
Instant smile. “Yes. Precisely. And now we need to take a look at your
home because I’m famished. You must be as well.”
Breakfast had been hours ago, and I’d skipped lunch, and though in my
old life I hardly ever ate properly—too many things to do and people to see
in a day—over the last two months my body had gotten accustomed to
regular meals.
“It was really nice of Gale to put up the fence,” I mentioned to her.
“Yes, although he could have painted it black.”
“White is more universal, yeah?”
“If you think so.” She sounded unconvinced.
“Hey,” Gale said, leaning out of the front door of my new home. “You
two come eat. We can do the rest of the tour and look at the main house
afterward.”
“You’re coming with?” I asked him.
“Of course. I’m the only one who’s armed.”
“Funny,” I replied drolly.
He shot me an odd look, eyebrows lifted.
 “Don’t worry,” Ada said, patting my arm. “I have a mining helmet and a
cricket bat for you. You’ll be fine.”
I glanced at her and then back to Gale.
“You need the light on the mining helmet,” he clarified for me, “and it’s
important that you have your hands free.”
Standing there, looking back and forth from one to the other, I had no
idea why they were screwing with me.
Ada brushed by me, walking into the house. Gale stood there, waiting,
his warm eyes never leaving me.
“You don’t actually have to go through her house with me,” I said, not
moving, staring up at him on the porch, giving him his out.
“I wouldn’t let someone I hated go in there alone, and since I definitely
don’t hate you, I’m going. I am concerned, though, about how long it’s been
since you’ve had a tetanus shot.”
“Stop being funny.”
“I can’t help it. You’ll find this out about me.”
I nodded, taking a breath. “I need to talk to you after and tell you about
myself.”
“What about yourself?”
“Not right now. We need to eat and—”
“You can tell me whatever you want to, or need to, but just know that
it’s really not that important to me.”
“Oh no?”
He shrugged. “I heard and saw what you did at the clinic. I see how you
are with Misha, and I can tell Ada adores you already.”
I stayed silent, waiting.
“Also, the second I filed my report on the incident at the clinic, I got a
phone call from Deputy US Marshal Martina Alvarez out of the Portland
office.”
Great.
“She just wanted to make sure I’ll keep an eye on you, and I promised
that for her benefit, I certainly would.”
“For her benefit?” I teased him.
“That’s correct.”
“Damn nice of you.”
“Right?”
“Nothing more?”
 He shook his head.
“May I ask, when you spoke to Alvarez, did she sound angry?”
“She sounded resigned; I think. From her voice, it sounded like she
expected you to have already had a run-in here and didn’t seem at all
surprised that you didn’t call. She thinks you have an unclear idea of what
does and doesn’t have to be reported to her.”
The way we were talking, he knew I was in WITSEC, but he was kind
enough not to actually pin me down and ask. What was really interesting
was that if Alvarez hadn’t called, he wouldn’t have known. She was the one
who had alerted Gale, not me.
I nodded. “Is she moving me?” I really hoped that wouldn’t be the case.
I just got to Rune. I wasn’t ready to leave.
“Oh no,” he husked, the sound soothing. “I went through everything
with her, explained whom you saved, that you’re a hero, and that you have a
new dog. She seemed to like that part the best.”
“She liked hearing about Misha?”
“Yeah. She said she’ll be out in a month to visit, to see your new digs
and check on your job. She was impressed you’d already found one. She
was pretty happy when I told her I live next door.”
“Oh God.”
He chuckled, and again, the drugging sound rolled right through me. I
already liked him more than I should.
“Did she tell you who I was in my old life?”
“Of course not. But what she did say was that bravery apparently runs
fast through your veins, as you turned on some very bad people who are
now behind bars.”
“Yeah, but”—and this was the part I’d been dreading—“I’m not some
innocent bystander, okay? I don’t want you to think—I’m a criminal,
right?”
“Were a criminal.”
“No, I still am.”
“How? Where?”
“No, you’re not getting it. Just because I haven’t done anything here
doesn’t make me suddenly the good guy.”
“Except that here, all you’ve done is good.”
I was going to argue, but…he was right. So far all I’d shown anyone
was my white hat.
 “Is that not right?” Gale asked. “Did I miss some sin you’ve committed
since rolling into town?”
Lust was a sin and I’d been doing that since I met him. “No, but really,
if you knew who I was, what I’d done…you wouldn’t like me.”
“I dunno,” he said with a slow grin that made the laugh lines in the
corner of his eyes crinkle. “I have a soft spot for bad boys.”
I shook my head. “You’re thinking of some kind of romance-novel-
bullshit guy with a heart of gold. That’s not me.”
He made a noise like maybe I didn’t know what I was talking about. “I
dunno about that, because all I’ve seen is a man who saves damsels and
dogs in distress.”
It was hard to breathe suddenly. “Listen, I was all mobbed up and
everything. Lots of blood on my hands.”
He nodded. “And yet, you took a right when you could have just kept
going.”
It was infuriating to be defended. There I was trying to come clean, to
tell him something important about me. How unworthy of his time, or
anything more, I was. “No. They tried to kill me, so my choices were taken
from me.”
“But you could have probably run for your life, yes?”
Which had been the first plan. “Yeah, but—”
“Instead, you decided to stay and put worse people than you away.”
“It was a friend’s idea to fight,” I blurted out, an image of Sava in one
of his wretched tracksuits popping into my mind.
“Even better. You took advice from a trusted source and listened. I don’t
think I know anyone who actually heeds good counsel.”
I ignored him. I was trying to make a point and wanted to make it, not
be diverted by allowing him to make me sound like a saint. “You don’t
know that they were worse.”
“Sorry?”
“The—you said that I decided to put worse people away, but you don’t
know that they were worse.”
“But I do,” he countered. “Because if you were the worst, they would
have indicted you instead of whoever it was they used your testimony
against. That’s just logical.”
“But—”
 “So I can only conclude that you used to be a bad man, are not one
anymore as evidenced by the very cute dog and how you’re getting ready to
take on the daunting task of renovating—no, let’s call it what it is: gutting
and piecing back together Ada Farley’s haunted house.”
It was suddenly all too much. “All day long today!” I yelled. “Everyone
is thinking I’m the Second Coming or some shit! I’m not a good man!”
He crossed his arms and laughed at me. “Says you.”
“Yes! Says me!”
“And yet everything I’ve seen so far today speaks to the contrary.”
I had to lean over so I didn’t hyperventilate. “I’m terrified that you’re
gonna hate me.”
“What?”
It was suddenly necessary to concentrate on the air struggling to go in
and out of my body.
I didn’t realize he’d jumped off the porch until there was a hand on my
back, rubbing gentle circles there. It was a surprise. If I’d ever broken down
in front of my father or any of the men I thought were my friends, they
would have immediately come after me for being weak. Even Sava would
have told me to sack up. But now, now I was in a place where I had just
stood in front of another man, been vulnerable, and instead of being
attacked, he had rushed over to comfort me.
“You’re having some big catharsis over here, and I’m thinking we’re
just talking like two regular guys.”
But I wasn’t that. I wasn’t regular.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly, crouching down beside me.
Still bent over, I turned my head so I could see his face and saw that he
looked worried. “Why would I hate you?”
It took a moment, but finally, I straightened up. He rose with me, and I
noted, as we were standing close, that I had to look up to hold his gaze. He
was taller than me, not by much, but I’d missed it earlier.
“Maks? Tell me.”
I took a deep breath. “You lost your partner, and what if that was
because you guys were undercover and someone just like me killed him and
—”
“Oh, I see,” he murmured, reaching out and slipping his hand around
the side of my neck, his thumb sliding over the line of my jaw. “What if a
guy like you used to be, killed him.”
 I couldn’t ever remember being excited and scared at the same time. I
was terrified of what he was going to think or say, even as I leaned into the
touch I craved and hoped he wouldn’t suddenly stop and walk away.
“First,” he said, and the smile he gave me made my knees weak. I’d
been impervious to most people my whole life, but now it was like my
wayward heart wanted to open to this man. “Are there men just like you?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice.
“I think you’re wrong, and I think you’re very comfortable selling
yourself short, pointing out flaws because that’s the place you were in for so
long.”
That part was true. So much easier to take in the bad, to hear the
negative, and assume there was no good. And I was a killer, so how could
there be?
“But I think if you look back, take a second and remember what others
said, that maybe even in the dark place you were in, perhaps you did some
good as well.”
It was what Agent Lewis had said, that some of my men spoke well of
me.
“I suspect, even from knowing you for only a short time, seeing how
you are, that that’s the greater truth.”
“I—”
“Is it possible that you’re a good man who was forced to do bad
things?”
“But truly good men can’t be forced.”
He chuckled, but from him it didn’t feel like I was being laughed at.
“There’s always a counterpoint with you, isn’t there.”
I was going to answer, but he took a step closer, reached up and held
both sides of my neck, and stared into my eyes.
“Dean—my partner—died in a drug raid. We were broken up by then
because he’d felt I betrayed him when I told our boss he was addicted to
painkillers, which got him fired.”
I wanted to hear it all, so I stayed quiet and soaked up the heat of his
hands on me.
“And that’s a really long story for another time,” he said, forcing a
smile. “But the crux of it is this: once he became an addict, he wasn’t
himself anymore. He was lost to me a long time before he died.”
 “I’m sorry,” I said, and I was. I’d seen it a million times, lost so many
men to drugs, which were so easy to get in our line of work. And Vanya too.
I’d seen first-hand that his addiction was stronger than loyalty, duty, family,
or anything else.
“But,” Gale continued, “he wasn’t killed by a crime syndicate or a hit.
He wasn’t a cop anymore when he died. He was a drug dealer and came to
the same end that many do.”
Relief flooded my entire body, and I wasn’t able to hide the shiver that
ran through me. I shouldn’t have been happy, and I wasn’t, not about his
former partner being dead. What was good to hear was that a man like me
had not ended the life of someone Gale Malloy had once loved.
“You were worried about this.”
I nodded.
“Thought I would what, hate you?”
Second nod.
“And you don’t want that because you like me already.”
“Yes,” I barely got out.
“I like you too,” he said, and kissed me.
It was brief, just his lips on mine for a moment, a kiss of comfort,
soothing, and I thought, this was friendship he was offering, but then he
tipped my head and kissed the side of my neck. It wasn’t gentle, and the
hand that had moved to my hair was holding me almost painfully tight.
And then he kissed me again.
Nothing friendly about that.
His tongue pressed for entrance, and I parted my lips, opening for him,
and he was there, mauling my mouth, taking what he wanted, feasting on
me.
I clutched his hips, my hands exerting the power to keep him close, and
then he knocked me back into the porch railing, his knee parting my thighs,
letting me feel what he wanted. He wanted inside. He wanted me to let him
in, to submit, and though I never had before, I felt the desire like a pinball
bouncing all over my chest, lighting up everything it touched that had been
dark and dead for years.
He had to tear himself away to breathe, and when he stepped back, he
was staring at me with wild eyes.
“You all right?” I asked, running my tongue over my lips, tasting him.
His exhale was sharp.
 “Gale?”
He swallowed hard. “Let’s go inside and eat so we can look at the house
from hell after, and then…then I want to talk to you some more.”
“Just talk?” I prodded him.
“No,” he confessed. “Not just talk.”
I couldn’t seem to stop staring at him. “I’d like to hear more about your
partner if that would be okay?”
“It would.”
“And you’re fine not knowing everything about me?”
“I think I know what I need to already.”
“I appreciate that, Gale, I really do, but you’re not seeing the whole
picture.”
“No,” he scoffed. “You’re not seeing it, Maks. And you need to.”
I opened my mouth to say something more, but he rendered me mute
when he took my hand and tugged gently. “Come and eat.”
I allowed myself to be led because I didn’t want to break the
connection.
Inside, Ada was folding drop cloths.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I told her.
“Oh no, it’s fine. I got Misha settled, showed him where his food dishes
are—I used some I made, none of that plastic or stainless-steel business for
our boy—and he had some dinner.”
He was, at the moment, curled up in a small dog bed that had been
placed in front of a gorgeous fireplace that would probably heat the whole
room in fall and winter.
“Now come sit down.”
She’d placed my sandwich, and the brisket she’d bought for Gale, on
beautiful cobalt-blue-and-forest-green-swirl plates.
“These are gorgeous,” I said, taking my seat beside Gale.
“Thank you. I made them.”
“Really?” I was impressed, lifting mine to look at the design
underneath.
“Yep, that’s my potter’s mark there, the sun for Summerland.”
“Holy shit, Ada,” I said, and she laughed, her smile huge. “We need to
make with the selling. We can start taking these to the farmer’s market.”
She was beaming at me. “I would love that.”
 “Not that you need the money, but you could maybe donate all the
profits to a place you like.”
“What a marvelous idea,” she said with a sigh, reaching across the table
to take my hand. “Oh, Maks, I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me too,” Gale added, his hand on my thigh under the table for just a
moment. “And so you know, there is nothing in your fridge. You’ll need to
go to the store.”
“I’ll do that after we walk through the big house.”
He chuckled. “I love that you think our local market stays open after
six.”
“Really?”
“One-horse town, son.” He snickered, bumping me with his shoulder.
“So maybe for tonight I’ll bring over some bottled water, coffee, and apple
juice. Unless you don’t like apple juice.”
“I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like apple juice,” Ada said, looking
at me askance.
“I do like apple juice,” I confirmed, grinning, then turned to Gale. “I
like it a lot.”
“Of course you do,” he said, chuckling, and that hand was back on my
thigh. When he went to move it again, I covered it with mine. “Okay, then,”
he whispered, and it was good that we had an understanding.
 EIGHT

M y house was a standard model two-bedroom, one-bathroom, living

room, and kitchen model. There was nothing special about it except
the wooden floors. It had been built, like the main house and Gale’s,
in 1925, but unlike the other two, it had not been continuously occupied. It
was why it looked homey in a vintage way. It was charming instead of
dated, the only appliances being a refrigerator that was a refugee from 1954
and a stackable washer and dryer from the ’70s. I would have worried about
it all being so old, but they both looked brand new. It was like the house had
been frozen in time.
“It’s nice in here,” I told Ada.
“I’ve always thought so,” she agreed.
It was fully furnished, which was great for me.
“You might need to do some laundry since God knows how much dust
is on the sheets and towels in your linen closet.”
“I can help you with that,” Gale offered. “We’ll put a load in and then
go look at the main house. That’ll be fun.”
Both Ada and I turned to him.
“What?”
“That was snide,” Ada informed him. “Maks already knows it’s in a bit
of disrepair.”
“A bit?” Gale raised a brow.
She made a tutting sound like he needed to be quiet.
“Is it okay to bring Misha?” I asked her.
“Yes, of course,” she said warmly, smiling at my dog.
 “He’s had his shots, right?” Gale chimed in.
“You’re just a delight,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he said smugly.
I shook my head at him, he put a leash on Misha, and we were off.
When I began to walk toward the front of the house, both Ada and Gale
asked what I was doing.
“I should go in the front door, don’t you think? To get the full effect of
walking into the house for the first time?”
“Oh, darling, you can’t get in via the front door. I’m not even certain
there’s a porch there anymore.”
I glanced at Gale, who waggled his eyebrows at me.
“Seriously?”
They both nodded.
“Ada, why did you let it get so bad?”
She turned to Gale and then back to me. “Did you miss where I
explained that I didn’t have a caretaker? I had no idea what to do.”
I glared at Gale. “And you couldn’t have helped?”
“I do some food runs, but I’m not the caretaker. I have a job, you
know.”
I did know, and speaking of… “Since technically, as the deputy chief of
police, it is your job to keep Ada safe, shouldn’t you have kept her out of
the house?”
He stopped walking to address me. “Listen,” he began, sounding very
serious and professional. “I tried to tell her to live in the caretaker’s house
until everything was fixed, but she said it wasn’t her place to simply take
over.”
“But it was.”
“But it’s not,” Ada argued, stepping in beside Gale. “It’s the caretaker’s
house, not mine. And I was fairly certain a new wonderful person would be
along soon and I was right because voila, here you are.”
“No,” I assured her, and then turned back to Gale. “Couldn’t you have
forced her to stay there?”
Gale shook his head. “She is competent to make her own choices even
if I don’t agree with them.”
“Thank you for sticking up for my sanity, dear,” she said to Gale.
He grunted and then gestured at the house. “Let’s go in the back,” Gale
stated in a voice that brooked no protest, pointing at the wooden cricket bats
by the gate, “and grab one of those in case you need to keep a snake or
something off you.” He picked up Misha and turned to Ada. “Just to be on
the safe side.”
“Stop. You know as well as I do that the alligator has been gone for
some time.”
He looked at me and laughed. It was probably my stunned expression
that did it.
Ada said, “Cecil got far too big for the downstairs baths, even with how
deep we made them. He lives at the San Diego Zoo now and loves it, as
they have quite the area for him.”
“Baths?”
“Like a Roman bathhouse,” Gale clarified. “That’s how they were built
in the basement. There were frescoes and everything.”
I glanced at Ada, who nodded.
“And you had an alligator down there?”
“Not when there were still people coming to the house,” she explained.
“But once there were no more parties, then yes.”
“But he got too big.”
“Yes.”
Was she kidding?
“There were two originally,” Gale apprised me, “so…best to keep
Misha off the floor.”
“He is snack size,” Ada agreed.
I was terrified of what I was walking into. Just inside the house, there
was a stack of actual mining helmets and they all had lights in them.
“I changed the batteries a month ago,” he said, putting one on. There
was light immediately. “Cool, right?”
Ada put hers on and they were both waiting for me.
“I thought you were kidding?”
“Darling, why would I kid about something like that?”
Gale waggled his eyebrows at me.
“This is nuts,” I told them.
“What’s nuts is that before we only had tennis rackets,” Ada informed
me. “But then I remembered that Oscar used to play cricket and I had the
bats in his room. These are far better.”
“Sturdier,” Gale assured me. “In case ya gotta kill something.”
Jesus.
Two hours later, I had packed a bag for Ada and walked her back over
to my house, where I put her in the second bedroom since she refused to
take the larger one as that was mine.
I had no idea which parts of the main house were fine and which were
not. At first glance, it looked pretty good overall, but I had no background
in construction, and so I wasn’t about to risk her life—more than she
already had herself. How had she been living there like that all this time?
How did no one notice?
Oscar’s suite, as Ada called it, appeared in only mild disrepair and
seemed by far the best maintained room in the house—all being relative.
The paint was chipping, the wallpaper faded, fixtures needed replacing, but
the marble bathtub, Baccarat crystal doorknobs, and floors were still lovely.
The wood needed refinishing, the area rugs had holes in places, and the
decor had to be updated, but as far as I could tell, it all looked structurally
sound.
The attic, on the other hand, was definitely a health hazard, given the
pervasive black mold and the amount of bat guano, and I had no idea if it
could be saved. And once the bat guano was cleared out by people in
hazmat suits, there were trunks and trunks of stuff. Someone would need to
determine if anything was salvageable, but I was betting no.
“I haven’t been up there in decades,” Ada confessed.
“The house might need to stop at the third floor and we get rid of the
attic altogether,” I suggested. “We won’t know until we have people out
here to look, but my bet is you don’t clean that much shit and piss out of
wood.”
She nodded. “Tactfully put.”
“Sorry,” I said softly. “But maybe instead of the attic, we could put a
widow’s walk up there. That could be cool, couldn’t it?”
Her eyes lit up.
I said, “When I was little, my mother took me on a trip to the coast of
Maine, and a lot of houses on the coastline had those. My mother really
loved them. It occurs to me that you might have a nice view from up there.”
She gasped. “I would love that, Maks. That’s what I always wanted.”
I thought she might, with how in love with a bygone era she was. “Well,
we’ll see what can be done once we have someone out here who can vouch
for the foundation.”
“And the basement bathhouse?” Gale asked.
Even in their current state, I was certain that at some point the tile and
interconnected pools had been lovely. Now they were filled with brackish
water and God knew what else. I would not have been surprised to see an
alligator lying on the steps. It had been freshwater, pumped in from a well
that had gone dry years ago, but there was still water seeping in from
underground. And since it rained continually, I was betting a French drain
would need to be put in to prevent leaks.
We’d had a similar situation at our second house in La Grange when
Pasha and I were kids. Cracks in the cement in the basement, under hastily
laid down carpet, had allowed water to come up and into the house
whenever it rained. My parents had bought the house, not knowing, and it
had been a horrible surprise when Pasha and I went downstairs to play and
immediately got our socks wet. Of course, the homeowner who sold us the
house had paid for the repairs, including repainting and floor tiles—my
father didn’t want carpet again. You didn’t say no to Grigory Lenkov, but I
was thinking that for Ada, perhaps the bathhouse could just go. Either way,
it needed to be drained, and like everything else, the foundation needed to
be checked. My vote was to simply fill it all in with concrete, but I wasn’t a
building inspector, so we’d have to wait and see. If I were a betting man,
my money would be on the basement being a goner.
Then there was Ada’s suite, which had a hole in the middle of the floor
that was open over a destroyed Louis XIV canopy bed twenty feet below.
She’d fallen through one night, which fortunately hadn’t killed her.
Whoever had moved the bed there in the first place had been a genius. I
didn’t want to know.
The windows in her room were gone, just open holes, and she had birds
roosting on top of artwork and her armoire. She was sleeping on a mattress
and box spring on the floor. Seeing that was when I’d had enough.
“Pack a bag, Ada,” I’d ordered her there and then. “You’re coming with
me.”
She seemed about to protest, but I glared at her, and she whispered that
yes, she would.
“You’ve always been the boss, haven’t you?” Gale teased me on our
way back out.
“Yes,” I said flatly.
 He studied my face. “Tell me the truth. Does having to be in control
translate to every part of your life?”
I knew what he was asking. “Normally.”
“But not always?”
“Never tried before.”
He nodded.
“That’s not a no,” I clarified.
“You feel like you could trust me, then?”
“Are you asking if I trust you, or if it’s something I want?”
“Both,” he said, carefully crossing the floor to me, testing it to make
sure it would support his weight and Misha’s, whom he was still carrying.
“You could probably put Misha down,” I suggested.
He tipped his head toward the built-in bookshelves on the opposite side
of the room. “You don’t see that barn owl over there that could probably eat
a coyote?”
I hadn’t until he pointed him out. Apparently Misha barked at people,
mostly me, but was not much for barking at birds of prey that could eat him.
I found that to be brilliant.

Once we were back at my house, Gale put up Misha’s bells so he could

tell me when he had to go out, and then we all just sat around for a bit,
talking, not saying anything terribly important, until Ada nodded off on the
love seat. She’d been waiting for the dryer to finish the cycle so I could
make her bed for her, and I suspected that after several minutes of silence
from me and Gale, combined with the monotonous sound of the drum
rolling around, she had been lulled to sleep.
I glanced over at Gale, who was standing in the kitchen, leaning against
the counter, drinking a glass of water. “Thanks for everything you did today.
I really appreciate you.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“And for the record, I would love to follow you home,” I told him, and
watched the smile spreading across his handsome face, “but I feel like I
should stay here and watch over Ada, at least tonight.”
“Unfortunately,” he said gently, walking over and taking a seat beside
me on the couch, “I agree. I think that’s for the best.” He reached out and
put his hand over mine. “But that doesn’t mean you’re kicking me out, does
it?”
“No,” I rumbled. “I would love if we could just sit here and talk some
more.”
“Good. Let’s do that.”
I took a breath. “So…are you still up to telling me about your partner?”
He nodded. “But I want to be clear, again, that we were broken up way
before he died.”
“Why is that important?”
“Because I want you to know that I grieved his life, and for the man he
was, but not for us. We weren’t an us anymore by the time he was killed.”
“Okay.”
Deep breath from him. “When you were a criminal, did you move
drugs?”
I shook my head. “Racketeering, extortion, fraud… We dealt in real
estate, lots of land deals, who gets to build what, where, the transportation
of goods, that level. Prostitution, drugs, guns, that wasn’t what my family
did. Not then.”
“And now?”
“Now they would have changed direction, but because of me, there is
no business anymore. All that’s left is my brother, who’s a good man.”
“So you left everything better than when it began.”
“Technically, yes.”
“I dunno, Maks, I’m getting an awfully strong hero vibe from you,” he
baited me.
“Just tell me your story. I don’t want to talk about me.”
Gale had been a SWAT member when he lived in New York. Dean
Wells was another member of the team, and being together day in and day
out, what started out as friendship eventually became more. Two years in,
Dean got hurt in the line of duty. He tore his ACL and rotator cuff, and like
a lot of people, was prescribed pain meds.
“I’ve heard this one before,” I said.
“We all have.”
It didn’t take Dean long to get addicted to the oxy he was given, and
then his doctor became certain that between rehab and the healing passage
of time, the SWAT officer shouldn’t need pills anymore to manage his pain.
Shortly afterward, Dean went from filling his prescription at a pharmacy to
getting it on the street.
“You must have seen a change in him.”
“I did. And I wasn’t the only one. Our sergeant—our team leader—did
everything he could, we all did to cover and try and help, but eventually,
everyone saw what we’d been trying to hide.”
“He lost his job.”
“He was put on administrative leave, and he blamed me for that, which
ended us.”
The words were spoken matter-of-factly, but I knew then that Gale
would have preferred to cut out his heart. He was caring and kind, and he
wore that easily, like he lived well in his skin.
“I begged him not to leave me. It was embarrassing and humiliating, the
lengths I went to, anything to try and get him to stay. I made a fool of
myself, but if I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t be able to say now that I did all I
could.”
I stayed quiet, just listening.
“By then it wasn’t love anymore. It was that sense of loyalty and my
stupid ego. You get to that place where you think that even though everyone
else had failed, you certainly won’t.”
“But he left.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“You and everybody else,” he said with a sigh.
“Then what happened?”
“Between his drug addiction and a series of investments that didn’t pan
out, he got in deep with the Contreras Cartel out of Mexico City that was
operating in LA and moving product across the country to New York.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. I can tell from your face. Who do you know with an
addiction?”
“My cousin.”
“Then you get it.”
“I do,” I said solemnly. “The first time it happened, when he fell in love
with the drugs, I couldn’t believe that he would give up everything so fast
for his next fix.”
“Did you take him to rehab?”
 “Three times,” I admitted.
“Dean refused to go, and then he did something even worse—he
double-crossed the cartel.”
From what Gale explained, Dean was given product to move, and the
only directions he was expressly given was not to cut the product. Even if
you could double or triple your money, the important thing was to have the
best product, the most potent. By cutting it, Dean made a fatal mistake.
“What happened?”
“The DEA turned their attention to busting the new player in town, and
you know who it turned out to be.”
I was quiet, not wanting to push.
“Bored already?”
I glared at him. “No, but I’m sure we’re getting to the hard part.”
“We are,” he agreed, leaning against me so we were shoulder to
shoulder.
I wanted to save him some of the telling. “Did he fire on you and his old
team?”
“He did, but we weren’t the only ones there.”
There was silence for long moments until I grabbed his hand with both
of mine, holding tight. He had been staring at the coffee table, but lifted his
head to meet my gaze.
“That’s a horrible story, Deputy Chief Malloy. Remind me never to ask
you to tell me a bedtime one.”
His smile was rueful. “I could kiss you right now for making me feel
even a fraction better.”
“I can’t even imagine what you went through with his family.”
“No, you can’t, because he’d never said a word about me to them. They
didn’t even know who I was.”
He had knives sticking out of his heart, and I’d missed that on first
glance. But now the man’s soul was showing. Hard to see the pain on his
face, the hurt in his eyes, and all I could offer was to keep him grounded by
holding on. It didn’t seem like nearly enough.
“I haven’t told anyone here that story,” he confessed. “I left all of it
behind when I moved out of New York. Thank you for listening, and even
more for wanting to know in the first place.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s so odd,” he said.
 “What’s that?”
“Like we’re already friends.”
Strangely, it was the same for me.
Then he said, “I would really like to stay here with you instead of going
home if that would be okay.”
I just stared at him.
“Was that weird?” He chuckled, sounding both awkward and
embarrassed. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Not at all,” I murmured, smiling at him. “I think that would be good.”
His sharp exhale let me know he’d been waiting to hear that.
The dryer went off then, and he followed me so I could pass him sheets
and pillowcases for Ada’s bed before I took the ones for mine. There was a
cedar hope chest in each room, and inside were quilts that had been kept
safe for years. Once he was done making her bed, he let her know it was
ready, and she drifted from the couch into the room. I wasn’t surprised that
she left the door open—she wanted Misha to be able to find her if he
wanted. Plus, she had been missing company, and closing the door would
cut her off from me and Gale.
When he walked into my room, I told him to get into the bed, and he
immediately stripped down to a T-shirt and briefs and slipped under the
covers. I did the same, turned off the light, then rolled over with my back to
him.
“How’d you know?” He moved up behind me, spooning me, his face
pressed to my nape, arm around my waist.
“How’d I know what? That you wanted to hold me?”
“Yeah,” he husked.
“It felt right,” I told him, just as I heard a sad little whine.
Gale chuckled softly in the darkness. “If you let him in the bed once,
that’s it. Crate training goes right out the window.”
“The fuck is crate training?” I asked, leaning over the side of my bed to
scoop up Misha and deposit him next to me. “Some kinda torture?”
“What if he pees in your bed?”
“He’s trained to ring a bell, for fuck’s sake,” I said dismissively. “If he’s
gotta go, he’ll tell me.”
“Tomorrow night you have to close the barn door. I’m not doing it,” he
said as Misha turned in circles until he found a comfy spot next to my chest.
His long sigh was really cute.
 “The sheep are weird,” I pronounced. “You close the barn door. I’ll give
you a dollar.”
He scoffed but clutched me tight. “My bed is even better than this one.”
“Says you.”
“I’ll even let you bring your dog when you sleep over.”
I was glad he couldn’t see my stupid grin.
Gale said, “I had no idea when I first met you today that I’d be sleeping
with you at the end of it.”
“But you wanted to fuck me.”
“Yes. Instantly. Desperately.”
“I dunno, I never got the desperate from you.”
“Oh no?”
I grunted.
“Well,” he said, “let’s be honest. My bet is that everyone who looks at
you wants to do bad things to you.”
“That’s true.”
“No, idiot,” he said, playfully biting my shoulder. “Not things that
would hurt you, unless you’re into that, but things like holding you down in
bed.”
“I don’t normally get those kinds of offers.”
“That’s shocking to me. I mean, Jesus, Maks, you gotta know you’re
beautiful.”
I snickered. “Scary, yes. Been told that a lot.”
“Promise you’ll get in my bed tomorrow.”
“That’s a deal.”
I hadn’t slept so well in years.
 NINE

I had an idea in my mind of how I thought the renovations on the house

were going to go. For starters, though I’d told both Gale and Ada that I
was going to start making calls the following morning, I assumed it
would take weeks for someone to get out and look at the house, beginning
with a home inspector. Not only was the house in a tiny coastal town in
Oregon, so someone had to come all the way here, likely from Portland, but
the backlog had to be immense to begin with. What I couldn’t have
anticipated was how important the Farley name would prove to be.
I thought perhaps a handful of people knew that Ada was tied to a great
fortune, but it turned out that people in the know, builders for example, not
only knew the name Farley, but it made them jump just as Lenkov had once
upon a time. Back in the day, people moved for me out of fear. They moved
now purely for the promise of cash. They knew all about the Farley fortune,
and once I started making calls, I got confirmations from pretty much
everyone.
I was an early riser and took Misha out, fed him, then jumped in the
shower. I could hear my phone pinging, and when I was standing in front of
the mirror ten minutes later, I was stunned at how quickly my inbox had
filled up.
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Yeah?” I called out.
Gale opened the door, I assumed to say something to me, but instead he
just stood there, staring.
“You all right?” I asked, concerned.
 “I—yeah,” he said, leaning for a second on the doorframe and then
swallowing hard.
“Gale?”
“Jesus, Maks, look at you.”
I had no idea what was going on.
He squinted at me. “Has no man ever told you that, between your face
and your body, you’re absolutely gorgeous?”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t like that,” I confessed. “The men I was with…it
was fast and secret, so there was a lot of fucking but no time for how you’re
looking at me right now.”
“I see,” he said, rushing over to me. “Well, then let me be the first to tell
you that you are a stunning creature, Maks Gorev. I want to run my hands
and mouth over every square inch of you.”
I felt the heat spread over my face and neck, and turned my head
because he just said things—nice things—to my face and expected that I
could look at him and be able to meet his gaze like that was normal.
“You know,” he whispered, leaning close and kissing the side of my
neck, “watching you stand here, blushing, is the hottest thing I’ve ever
seen.”
“I will punch you so hard, you won’t be able to stand up,” I growled at
him.
He chuckled, and then surprised me. I thought he’d grab hold of my ass,
try and pull the towel off, maybe grope me, but instead he wrapped me in
his arms and hugged me.
I was enfolded, clutched tight to his chest, and he pressed his face down
into my bare shoulder. I had no idea what to do with such easy human
contact. Fast, heated, one and done, that was my usual. Normally, I was
lucky to get a name. This whole slow roll of passion was brand new.
“Just so you know,” he said into my skin, “you don’t have to wait for
me to touch you first. Whatever you want, a kiss, to hold my hand, a
hug”—he squeezed me tight—“you just do that, all right?”
Before Gale, I couldn’t remember a lover ever hugging me, holding me.
And we hadn’t even been to bed yet. Or we’d been to bed, but we’d both
passed out. There wasn’t any sex. But now, here he was, treating me like I
was special.
“Let’s start off right,” Gale said.
 “Meaning what?” I asked, looking up at him as he let me go and took a
step back.
“Meaning that even though I want you so bad it’s hard to breathe around
it, I also want to give you time to discover what it means to have someone
really want you.”
“I’m missing something.”
“We’re gonna date. I’m gonna woo you.”
What? “Woo me?”
Eyebrow waggle.
It took a moment. “No, no. That’s not necessary or— I don’t need to be
wooed. You can have me right now. Let’s go back to my room and—”
“Absolutely not,” he said flatly. “You just blushed because I told you
you’re beautiful. That’s crazy to me. You should know that already. But
you’ve been walking around all your life being scary and in charge and
having people piss themselves if they disappoint you. Am I right?”
That was a hundred percent true. “Well, yes, but—”
“And I’ll bet you that a lot of men and women you met were thinking,
I’d like a taste of that, but you just assumed what you were looking at was
cold, abject terror.”
“Listen, I’m not stupid,” I said defensively. “I know when someone—”
“So tell me yes. Tell me you wanna date me, only me, and you’re going
to give this whole thing, us, a chance.”
Now there were parameters? “We don’t have to label what—”
“You don’t want to date me?”
In the past, nothing was ever defined. If I saw someone I had fucked
before, if I was up for it and they were free, we’d screw a second time. But
I’d never dated anyone in my life. I would never put a bull’s-eye on another
person, tell my father and the rest of the family that yes, that was the one,
they had my heart. And I couldn’t anyway. My father would have put a
bullet in me before he allowed me to date or declare my love, my feelings,
for a man. That was impossible.
Gale said, “Maybe I misread what—”
“No,” I nearly yelled, which was even louder in the small space of the
bathroom. He’d been wrapped around me all night, and he thought I wasn’t
serious about him? “No,” I repeated, clearing my throat. “You didn’t
misread anything.”
His smile was blinding, lighting up his face. “You do want to date me.”
 “I just—I fuckin’ want you. Period.”
“Okay,” he said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the side of my neck,
then to my cheek. “Good. So will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“You and I both know it’s us and Ada for dinner for the foreseeable
future,” I groused. “We can date, but we both feel the same about her. Even
though you say you have a job, you took care of her too.”
“I did. You’re right. We might have to wait on the date night for a bit,
but in the meantime, we can talk and walk and let me sleep in your bed or
you can sleep in mine.”
“I would like to see your place and your bed.”
“Excellent,” he agreed. “Now I’m leaving to shower. I’ll come back
before I leave for work.”
“You’re leaving?” I was suddenly feeling a bit lost for some reason.
And some of it was him, and some of it was the night-and-day difference of
my new reality. Hard to get your sea legs when the boat was nowhere to be
seen.
“Yeah. But not before I come back and kiss you goodbye.”
“You could kiss me now.”
He scoffed. “I could, but I’ve been looking at the curve of your ass
under that towel for just a bit too long at this point, and my thoughts are not
romantic.”
“You wanna fuck me,” I said, and because I’d only ever done the
fucking myself, just the words sent a jolt of electricity through me.
“Yes. So much,” he confessed and bolted from the room without another
word.
“Coward,” I yelled after him.
“I’m showing restraint, you shit,” he growled.
He wanted me but didn’t want to mess up. I couldn’t think of anything
more romantic. I would have told him so, but my phone distracted me with
all the pinging notifying me of texts and emails. The Farley name said
money, and everyone wanted to help me.
When I got out of my bedroom, changed, I heard Misha’s bells jingle
and let him out into the tiny enclosed yard behind the house. The fence slats
were too close together for him to get through, and while I stayed out there
and watched him, eyes peeled for predators, I was thinking that whatever
would try and get him had to be damn ballsy to get him so close to the back
door.
 Inside, Ada had made me an egg scramble with pepper-jack cheese,
turkey sausage, green peppers, onions, assorted spices, and had garnished it
with jalapeños. I also had toast with lavender honey from a nearby farm that
Ada made decorative-lidded jars for.
“I also do creamer-and-sugar sets,” she explained as I took a seat at the
table.
“I had no idea you could cook.”
“Oh, only breakfast. My governess insisted that all her charges learn to
boil water, fry an egg, and be able to make a proper cup of English tea. It
was very important.”
“Is English tea different from American tea?”
“Oh my, yes,” she assured me. “For starters, the water must be utterly
scalding.”
“Okay.” I grinned at her. “Why don’t you sit down.”
“I will. I just need to pour the coffee Gale made. Such a lovely man. I
think the idea of the two of you dating is charming.”
“What?” When had she heard that? “Did he say something to you?”
“Oh, darling, I’m neither stupid nor unobservant. I can draw my own
conclusions.”
“And you think us dating is a good idea?”
“I think it’s simply grand.”
Of course she did.
“Also, we should call the deli after breakfast and tell them what we
want for lunch, don’t you think that’s a wonderful idea?”
“Certainly.”
She smiled. “I love how agreeable you are.”
I scoffed. “No one has ever called me agreeable in my life.”
The way she looked at me, as though confused, made me smile.
“I find that terribly hard to believe,” she told me.

The building inspector showed up at noon. Hector Guerra was

horrified at the state of the underground pools and agreed with me that
drained and filled was the only way to be certain of the house’s foundation.
He marked the bearing walls for me, again agreed that the attic needed to be
completely removed and that the entire house needed to be treated for mold.
 “You know, it would be cheaper to bulldoze the entire home to the
ground.”
But money wasn’t the issue. “I know, but if we make your changes, the
house will be up to code?”
He nodded. “The bones are good.”
Which was a relief to hear.
He put me in touch with a biohazard cleanup team, and before anyone
else could look at the house, that needed to be done. He would be back once
that was completed and look at the house a second time to make sure he
hadn’t missed anything. I appreciated his thoroughness, as I was the same
way myself.
After touring the house with Pansy Tucker from Dream Clean, we sat
downstairs in the kitchen, which was enormous, with a butler’s pantry, a
wine room, and four ovens. I could only imagine what used to be cooked in
the house and for how many.
Pansy said, “Other than the attic, the basement pools, and two other
rooms, this house is not nearly as bad as others I’ve been to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Hoarder homes, with the trash, are far harder to clean and take
much longer.”
She explained that while the black mold would need to be treated, it was
confined to a very small space of the house, there was none at all in the
basement, and once the attic was cleared and everything up there
incinerated, we needed to have everything, including the level itself,
removed.
“That’s what I figured.”
“Have you called Animal Control about the iguanas?”
“Pardon?”
“The ones living in the sauna.”
Jesus. “I had no idea there was a sauna.”
“Yeah. Behind the pools.”
“Okay, well, the answer is no. Not yet.”
She nodded.
“They can’t be her iguanas, can they?”
“Well, they live about twenty years, so I doubt they’re the same ones
she brought with her or, you know, someone brought with them. They’ve
probably been breeding down there.”
 “Great.”
“My son runs an iguana sanctuary in Warrenton. I can give him a call if
you want.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, please. I would love you to give him a call.”
“Okay, good. Now listen: you need a new roof, and maybe a
landscaper.”
“Perhaps,” I said sarcastically.
She chuckled. “You’re a wiseass, just like my husband.”
“It’s been said,” I agreed.
“I don’t wanna tell you your business, but…you either need a helluva
lot more sheep or, like, five guys with machetes,” she said, grinning at me.
“And my money’s on snakes in the front. My son also takes in snakes if you
want him to check.”
“That would be great.”
“It might cost you a donation to the sanctuary, since he’s wrangling at
that point.”
“Wrangling?”
“You know, picking up snakes and lizards and getting them all
together.”
“Ah. Herding. Got it.”
“Will that be okay?”
“Yep. Not a problem.”
“Excellent.” She was beaming at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever met such
an agreeable man.”
Twice in one day. Unbelievable.
I told Gale at dinner.
“Was that news to you?” he teased me as he took another slice of
pepperoni pizza. I noticed that he had yet to touch his salad. “Have others
not thought of you as agreeable?”
“Not so much,” I said, grabbing another slice of the combination pizza,
which had all the veggies plus sausage. “Thanks for bringing dinner.”
“Oh yes, Gale,” Ada chimed in. “Pizza is a treat.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, reaching out simply to touch my
cheek.
 “You gonna eat some of your greens?” I asked, glancing at the antipasto
salad and then meeting his gaze.
“Yes,” he said, scowling.
“When?” Ada asked pointedly. “Maks and I finished ours, but you—
darling, you must eat some roughage for your bowels.”
“Yeah,” I seconded. “Think of your bowels, man.”
“You’re both disgusting,” he griped but picked up his fork.
After dinner, the two of us were walking Misha when Gale got a call.
The entirety of the conversation, from his end, was a series of grunts and
groans until he finally said, “I’ll be right there.” The long sigh afterward let
me know he was annoyed.
“I’m sorry, Maks. We have a noise-disturbance call. Apparently things
are getting out of control.”
“Party?”
He nodded.
“Misha and I will go with you.”
“What? No,” he said, shaking his head. “If we end up making arrests,
you could both be there all night.”
“If that happens, I’ll get a cab.”
He scoffed. “Honey, there’s no cabs in Rune that run any later than ten.”
Did he know he just called me honey? “Then I’ll follow you in my
Jeep.”
“Why do you want to come along so badly?”
“Because I’ve seen your two deputies, and I think it would be better if I
came to back you up.”
Wicked grin from him. “You don’t trust them to take care of me?”
“Not at all.”
He was quiet a moment. “You can come with me, but I want you to
retreat to the car if anything happens.”
“Certainly,” I agreed, but there must have been something about the
way I said it because he was looking at me closely. “What?”
“You’ve never retreated from anything in your life, have you?”
I had not. It was not in my nature. “We should go, don’t you think?”
“We should take Misha inside.”
But I had a feeling.
Over the years, at different times, my intuition had told me things. My
mother said it was my guardian angel, but in my case, since I couldn’t
imagine I had anything heavenly looking out for me, I had to go with my
father’s explanation. According to him, it was a memory from your past
life. He believed we were all reincarnated over and over to live another shit
life because we were all evil deep down.
“Unless you are perfect, like Pasha and your mother,” he’d told me,
“you come back.”
So when I met someone I wasn’t sure of for whatever reason, that was
because they had fucked me over in a previous life. One damaged, broken
soul acknowledging another. At the moment, feeling that I should bring
Misha with me meant I had to go with my gut. And maybe it was all crap
and I just wanted to bring my dog because I liked him, or maybe there was
something more I just couldn’t see right now. Either way, I told Gale that
Misha was coming with us.
“Let’s go,” I prodded him. “The quicker we get there, the quicker we
can get home.”
He couldn’t argue with that logic.

It was wrong and judgmental of me, but I was expecting us to drive to the
poorer side of town. Instead, we wound up in an upper-middle-class
neighborhood built around a man-made lake. There was a walking path
around the lake, and the houses all had gates from their backyards that
opened onto the path. This was the issue: the house party had people in the
front and back, it was very loud, and it was now after ten at night on a
weekday. The people who’d complained lived three doors down, and Gale
pulled up there first. A man and a woman were waiting on the curb.
He got out, and so did Misha and I.
“Sorry about this, Gale,” the man said, “but our one-year-old keeps
getting woken up because of the––”
There was a boom then, and up in the sky, a shower of sparkling lights
from the firework that went off over the lake.
“I’ll take care of it, Chris,” Gale said, then looked at the woman, who
resembled a goddess standing there in the moonlight with her pale skin and
fiery-red curls that fell all around her to the middle of her back, like a veil.
“Siobhan,” Gale said curtly.
“I have a bat,” she told him. “I can take care of it myself, but my
husband said no, call Gale, it’ll be fine.”
 “I––”
“Hi,” I said, greeting her, understanding at once what I was supposed to
do. “We came as soon as we heard, and I didn’t have time to take my dog
home.”
“Oh,” Siobhan said, surprised. “You were on a date and you came right
over?”
“Yes,” Gale said quickly, following my lead.
“Could you watch him?” I asked her, passing her the leash.
“Of course,” she said, bending down to pick him up.
Misha wriggled in her arms, licked her face, and then started grunting
and yipping at her.
“Oh, I see,” she told him, turning for her house. “And what else went
on?”
Chris was smiling. “That was brilliant,” he told me, then to Gale, “Get it
shut down, Deputy, before she takes the adorable dog with her to kick some
ass.”
Gale and I took off toward the party, and as soon as people saw him,
they began to leave the front yard. There were people across the street
yelling, and the woman next door on the left was on her porch with her
three German shepherds. When she saw Gale striding toward the front door,
she went inside with the dogs. If people felt that shit was going to get done
when they saw Gale, that was a good sign.
Inside, the music hit me like a wall of sound. It was hard to move
through the thick crowd. Gale leaned close, told me he would find the
homeowner if I could start asking people to exit.
I nodded, and he pointed out that Tan was in an opposite corner yelling
at someone. When Gale left, I made it to the open back door, where I saw
Woosley down at the lake with the guy with the fireworks.
Turning back around, because it was an open floor plan, I could see
everyone at once: the people congregated in the large kitchen, those playing
video games in the living room, splayed out on couches and chairs, those
sitting around the dining-room table, and those just milling around. Moving
to the entertainment center, I got around the back and unplugged
everything, the music dying instantly. That was good because the bass was
so loud, I could feel it in my chest.
“The hell are you doing, man?” a guy roared before charging me.
 “Greg Snyder!” Gale yelled, and the man stopped midstep and spun
around to face Gale, who was suddenly there, in front of him. “You’re in
violation of a noise ordinance, and you have someone on your property
setting off illegal fireworks.”
“Everyone clear out,” I ordered, and between my tone and the posture I
adopted when I was threatening people, they all started to move.
It probably would have gone smoothly, as Woosley was writing the guy
a ticket for the fireworks and Tan was directing everyone out through the
front door, but a woman came charging up to Gale, shrieking about her
daughter.
Apparently, Mr. Snyder had been downstairs with his friends, playing
video games, and Mrs. Snyder was on the back deck having a drink with
hers. Both of them thought their daughter was in the back bedroom,
sleeping. The ranch house was a good size, about 4,600 square feet, so the
way it was spread out, the music was not so loud back there. The issue was,
as the alarm wasn’t on, when Mrs. Snyder went to check on her six-year-old
daughter, she found a window open, the screen popped out, and no sign of
her child.
She was screaming, Mr. Snyder was yelling at everyone to look for
Lauren, and immediately Gale had a search party.
Mrs. Snyder started to hyperventilate.
It would have been easy to make a snap judgment and say they were
bad parents, but instead I took hold of Mrs. Snyder, gripped her arms tight,
and ordered her to breathe.
Her gaze met mine as she took several shaky breaths.
“When did you see your daughter last?” I asked her.
Listening to the answers, I walked her back to the room and didn’t let
her touch anything because it was a crime scene and needed to be left
untouched. She explained that when she’d put her daughter down for the
night, it was just supposed to be a few friends coming over to celebrate her
husband’s promotion at work, but it had gotten out of control quickly.
“I understand,” I told her as we walked together back out to the living
room, where only a few of her friends remained, waiting to console her.
“This is not your fault.”
She started to cry, and I handed her over to her friends before bolting
out the front door.
 As the former second-in-command of a crime family, I actually had
quite a bit of experience with kidnapping. Normally it was us picking
someone up, torturing them for information, and then making them
disappear. And while that was horrible, there were other kidnappings when
spouses and children were taken to pressure others into spilling secrets. I
never allowed that when I was in charge. Families were strictly off-limits.
But others had attacked us that way, and I was always the one leading the
investigation into who had done what and when. I never hesitated to call in
the police, and other crime families had always been so surprised. But when
you devolved to preying on loved ones, you deserved what you got.
Outside on the street, I took in the scene of people going door to door.
There were lights on in every house, and as I stood there, I remembered
what it had looked like when Gale and I were walking toward the Snyders’
house. Lights were on in a few homes, some neighbors were on the street,
annoyed, like Siobhan and Chris, who’d called us, and when we’d gotten
closer, the lady on the left with the dogs was on her porch. But on the right,
the house was dark. And yes, on that side, the side by Lauren’s bedroom,
there was less noise, but still, what about the booming of the fireworks?
Wouldn’t the resident there have been annoyed? With the house being dark,
the assumption could have been, of course, that there was no one home, but
now there were lights on. So why now, but not earlier?
Logically, everyone was different about noise. Some people didn’t
mind, could sleep through a tornado. Lev was like that. I myself was a light
sleeper. It came from never feeling safe, and the first good night’s sleep I’d
had in years was last night with Gale wrapped around me. And while I
didn’t know what kind of sleeper was in the house next door to the Snyders,
whoever they were, they were awake now.
Rushing down the street, I went in through their front gate, up to the
door, and rang the doorbell.
Nothing.
I rang a second time, and a man answered. He was probably about my
age, clean-cut, handsome, and wearing glasses. He looked like a
schoolteacher. And that was my bias because schoolteachers came in every
size and shape, and I knew that, but still. He reminded me of one. Or maybe
a college professor.
“Hi,” I greeted him. “We’re all out here looking for Lauren, so I just
wanted to know if you’d seen her.”
 “No, I—I just got home and––”
“Colby!”
I turned to see Siobhan at his gate, hair back, tennis shoes on instead of
her slippers, ready to be out looking for a little lost girl. The thing was, she
had Misha with her, and he tugged on his leash at the same time the lady
with the German shepherds came toward her, one of her dogs charging
down the sidewalk.
“Oh no,” Siobhan gasped as Misha bolted toward me and the shepherd
charged by her.
When Misha reached me, I scooped him up, but the shepherd ran by and
into Colby’s house.
“No,” he screamed and went to grab the dog.
I followed them in, and he wheeled around on me as the shepherd, nose
to the carpet, sniffed away.
“Get out of my house!”
“I’m just trying to help you with the dog,” I said, putting Misha down
and “accidentally” unclipping his leash in the process.
“Get your dog!” he roared as Misha took off and ran laps around the
living room, thinking that it was a game.
“Lemme get the shepherd first,” I said, following the dog down the hall,
where he was sitting by a door.
“That’s locked,” Colby yelled, rushing down the hall. “Don’t you
dare––”
I body-checked him into the wall, which put him down hard on the tile
floor, before I reached the dog, stepped back, and kicked the door open. The
dog was through in seconds, scrambling down a flight of stairs, and I turned
on the light before I followed.
It was a lot of stairs. One flight came to a small landing, and then there
was another short flight down. And there, against the far wall, was a little
girl, arms and legs bound, duct tape over her mouth, lying naked on a
mattress. The dog was sitting beside her like a statue.
Rushing to her side, seeing how wild her eyes were, I gave her a
reassuring smile and said softly, “Love, I’m here to take you home, okay?”
She nodded.
“The duct tape is gonna hurt when I pull it off, so we’re gonna count
one two three go, all right?”
Second nod.
 I counted and pulled, and she cried out and then screamed, and when I
turned, I saw Colby on the landing.
“You should have been running,” I said, but as he seemed about to do
so, Gale blocked the doorway.
Turning back to the little girl, I worked the knots of the ropes and got
them off, and as soon as she could move, she lunged into my arms.
“You’re safe now, bunny,” I told her, taking off my coat and wrapping it
around her. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
She nodded frantically.
“Did he hurt you?”
More nodding.
Shit.
I cleared my throat. “Were you hurt when he pulled off your clothes?”
Please God let that be it I prayed.
“Yes,” she answered.
“How about after that?”
She shook her head.
Oh thank God. The relief was overwhelming. “So he hurt you when he
pulled off your clothes and then tied you up and put the tape on your
mouth?”
Lots of nodding and sudden tears, so I sat, with the dog protecting us,
and rocked her in my arms as I heard Gale read Colby his rights.

Mrs. Beasley, who owned Gunther, the dog who’d found Lauren, told us
all her dogs had been trained by Mr. Kramer, and she had three because she
had needed to feel safe after her husband passed away. The second she
heard Lauren was missing, she went to the Snyder house with Gunther, and
had Mrs. Snyder give her one of Lauren’s dirty shirts from her hamper. That
she gave to her dog and told him to find Lauren. After smelling the shirt, he
had gone immediately out the window and vaulted over the fence separating
Colby’s house from the Snyders’. When he couldn’t find a way inside, he
jumped back over the fence, joined his owner, went around to the front, and
charged through the gate, down the path to the steps leading to the porch
and into the house. He’d quickly found the little girl’s scent and done what
he was trained to do, taking a seat facing the door he needed to get through.
Once I kicked it open, he proceeded to reach Lauren.
 “He’s a hero,” I told Mrs. Beasley as I carried Lauren back to her house.
“So are you, dear,” she assured me, hand on my arm as she walked
along with me. “If you weren’t at his door, Gunther would have signaled,
but we would have had to wait until Gale got there to get Colby to open
up.”
“It’s all Gunther,” I said pointedly, and she nodded.
“If that’s how you want it.”
“Please.”
She smiled up at me. “I’ve never considered a small dog, but Misha is
simply darling.”
He was, at the moment, sitting on top of Lauren, and she was holding
him as we walked her back home.
Lauren’s mother collapsed when we walked in the door, and her father,
who’d yelled at me earlier, rushed over and took her from me, thanking me
the whole time as Lauren explained how Mr. Landau had taken her from her
bed, but Gunther and I found her and everything would be okay now.
“Yes, it will be,” her father soothed as her mother joined them.
“Can we get a dog?”
“Yes,” her mother promised. “We’ll go tomorrow to Mr. Kramer’s and
get one just like Gunther.”
“Can we get one like Misha too? He’s so cuddly and cute.”
“Yes,” her mother said, reaching up to grab my hand and squeeze tight.
“You can stay home from school tomorrow, and we’ll go to the humane
society and find one as close as we can get to Misha.”
Lauren was very excited over this news.
I turned to go, and Lauren started to cry. “No. Don’t go yet, okay?”
“I was just going to get you some water.”
Big grin then through her tears. “Okay. I want that.”
Normally, Lauren wouldn’t have been able to shower before a forensic
team came and collected what they needed from her, but this was not a case
of them trying to find evidence so they could find the perpetrator. The Rune
police knew, without question, that Colby Landau had kidnapped Lauren
Snyder. He’d taken her, stripped her, and it was only because Gunther had
been so quick to pick up the trail that nothing horrible had occurred.
But now, freshly showered, in her parents’ bed, she was reading me a
book about a magical tiger and a girl trying to save her grandmother. I was
impressed. I didn’t remember reading that well when I was six.
 “Sweetie,” Mrs. Snyder said softly. “We should let Maks go home now,
don’t you think?”
“As soon as I’m done with this part,” she said, smiling at me and petting
Gunther, who was on the bed beside her.
I was thinking that her father, downstairs still talking to Gale, Chief
Ramirez, and Sergeant Dix from the state police, would afterward be
sleeping in the recliner I was presently in with Misha. Lauren did not want
to be separated from Gunther. Or me. She had reluctantly told her mother it
was okay to give me back my jacket, but she kind of liked it too. It smelled
like me, and that was a good thing. When Lauren was in the shower,
singing a song about a turtle and bubbles, her mother had broken down in
my arms.
“Thank you for finding my baby,” she told me and then jolted. “Oh my
God, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Maks. But Gunther’s the real hero.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Mostly Gunther, with a bit of me.”
She nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Lauren was sleeping under her book, her mother
was passed out beside her, and Gunther was snoring. When Gale came in,
Gunther came instantly awake, lifting his head.
“Hey, buddy, I’m a friend,” he told the dog, who must have thought
Gale was okay because he plopped his head back down and closed his eyes.
“You are Gunther approved,” I whispered as Gale walked to the chair I
was in and crouched down beside it.
“Yeah, well, I wanna be Maks approved,” he said, hand on my thigh.
“You were amazing. How did you know where Lauren was?”
“Just being observant.”
“Well, that was awesome, and if I didn’t think you were a good man
before—I mean, geez, Maks, have you saved kids before?”
I had. Many. But this was not the moment to tell him, not with him
looking at me like he was utterly spellbound.
Leaning sideways, I kissed him, hard, and he lifted and kissed me back,
and I felt all the longing and desire there. It was a long, slow kiss, the kind
I’d never had before him, where we both took our time and there was give
and take on both sides. I never wanted it to end.
 Before everything combusted and we woke up the room, he eased back
and stared at me. The flush on his face and throat, his blown pupils and
swollen lips, had me mesmerized.
“You wanna come home with me?” he asked, his voice soft and husky.
“Yes, please.”
He scooped Misha off my lap and put him on the floor before helping
me with my jacket. Once it was on, he held on to the collar and eased me
forward for another kiss. It was quicker the second time, and then he passed
me Misha’s leash and walked toward the door.
“Will you come back and see me?” Lauren whispered.
“Yes, I will,” I promised her. “And you can come see me, and see the
sheep.”
“Yay!” she said, a bit too loudly, but her mother settled back as soon as
she put her hand over her mouth. If Gunther’s face was any indication, he
just wanted us out.

On the drive home, Gale told me he’d reported everything, and since
there would be no trial, no one would be looking at the official report.
“And people love hero animals anyway.”
“Yes, they do,” I agreed, smiling when he reached over and put his hand
on my thigh.
“So is that how you stayed alive in your former life? Being vigilant?”
“There was no other way to be.”
He was quiet for a bit.
“What’re you thinking about?” I asked him.
“That if Colby Landau had a gun, he might have shot you and Lauren
before I made it to his house,” he rasped. “It keeps running through my
head.”
“That’s a mistake,” I told him, covering his hand with mine. “I’ve done
that a million times, and it does nothing. You have to live in the moment
and be grateful.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll live in the moment.”
It was good to hear.
 TEN

I t was late by the time we got home, so I went for a quick shower,
thinking we’d go to Gale’s right after, but when I came out, I was
surprised to find Gale in my living room in a T-shirt and shorts, the rest
of his clothes neatly folded next to him on the couch.
“I thought I was coming to your place?” I said, grinning.
“Yeah, but it’s after midnight and––”
“We both need to get up early in the morning,” I finished for him. “So
you’ve relegated us to just sleeping again, no sex.”
“Why do you hafta say it like that?” he whined.
I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of me.
“Maks…when we go to bed, I want it to be great so you’ll think, yeah,
having sex with Gale a second time would be a good thing.”
The smile would not leave my face. He was so grouchy at the moment,
it was adorable.
“But if I fall asleep in the middle,” he went on, “what kind of
impression am I making?”
“I love that you’re worried about this.”
“I’m not eighteen anymore, Maks. I don’t just screw and not care if I’m
making it good for you. And I really want it to be fuckin’ amazing so you’ll
consider sticking around.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be perfect. That’s not necessary.”
“No, I know,” he almost whined. “But I’m already getting…invested, so
I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” I assured him. “Go take a shower.”
 “How do you know? You don’t know,” he grumbled as he rose from the
couch, picking up his clothes to take with him. “You’re the first person in
years who has all my interest and who gives me heart palpitations simply by
looking at me, and what, I’m supposed to assume that everything will go
smoothly?”
“Heart palpitations?” I teased him.
He stopped walking to shoot me the most deadpan look ever. Like he
was so over my bullshit.
I snorted out a laugh.
“Making fun of me is not charming,” he informed me.
God, I was crazy about him already. “Come here.”
He shook his head but did anyway, walking over to me, into my
personal space, and waited. I put my hands on his hips and lifted my face
for a kiss.
“I’m a bit invested myself,” I whispered, licking my lips before parting
them.
Dropping his clothes, he took hold of the back of my neck and wrapped
his other arm around my waist yanking me close and kissing me deeply. I
coiled my arms around his neck and held on as he pressed me tight against
him.
I wanted him, he wanted me just as badly, so waiting was stupid, but at
the same time, I’d never had a connection with a lover like I already had
with Gale.
Shoving him off me, I was panting as I stared at him.
“I just need to go to my place and grab my lube,” he told me.
I squinted at him.
“No? Not romantic?”
“Take a shower,” I ordered him.
He immediately turned and bolted for the bathroom.
Once he was in there a few minutes, I sneaked in and saw him leaning
into the spray, face in the water, all covered in suds that he was letting run
off his body.
He was beautiful. All that wet golden skin over hard muscles, the lines
of him all carved, his ass round and perfect. When I got in behind him,
putting my hands on his back, his moan was pure surrender.
Seeing how hard he was, fully erect, I turned him around and dropped to
my knees.
 “I was in here thinking about you,” he murmured.
“Good,” I whispered before leaning forward and taking him down the
back of my throat.
“Maks,” he yelled as I sucked hard, then eased up for a moment,
running my tongue along his length before deep throating him again, taking
hold of him so I could lick and lave, nibble gently along his length, only to
return to the beginning.
I dragged my tongue over his balls, held them in my hand, pressed my
face to his groin as I took him even deeper, and then began the in and out I
could tell he liked, given the way he shivered.
“Maks…honey,” he groaned, head back, eyes closed, leaning against the
wall of the shower now, needing it to remain standing. “I want to take care
of you and––fuck,” he husked, bracing himself with one hand as I feasted
on his cock.
I felt him thicken in my mouth, felt him tense as he fisted a hand in my
hair, but I didn’t stop. I kept the suction strong, wanting what he was about
to give me.
“Honey, you hafta— I’m gonna come and— Maks!”
I bit him. Just gently, never to hurt, but between that sudden twinge of
pain and the quickly resumed sucking, he was a goner. He came thick and
hot down my throat, and I swallowed fast, taking it all.
He was shuddering when I licked the last drop. I stood and faced the
warm spray, washed my face in the water, then turned around to look at
him, pleased he hadn’t been able to move.
“Jesus, Maks,” he rasped. “You’re just walkin’ around with that
mouth?”
I chuckled, and he moved faster than I thought he could, grabbing me
tight and kissing me, his tongue tasting mine, over and over, finally sucking
on it as both hands gripped my ass.
“I’ve never… You took so much time,” he whispered against my lips.
“No one ever— You’re so beautiful and sexy, and you have this amazing
heart that… Just don’t go away. Please don’t go away.”
“Where would I go?” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, then
kissed him.
The way he held me, like I was his treasure, was a brand-new
experience.
 Once we were out of the shower, dried off and in bed, he spooned me.
We heard a little whimper, so I rolled forward to pick up Misha, and Gale
muttered that he needed to make him a ramp.
“Yeah? You gonna do that?”
“Yes,” he grumbled, his arm tight around me, his lips at my ear. “This
weekend.”
“Okay,” I whispered, turning my head so his lips brushed my cheek.
“Maks…you shouldn’t have… I mean, I loved it, more than loved it, but
I didn’t do anything for you and––”
“And it always has to be equal? That’s what you’re saying?”
“No, but––”
“There’s no rules. There should never be rules between me and you.”
“Yes, good, okay,” he said, rolling me to my back so he could lie on top
of me, pinning me under him.
I was chuckling as he took my mouth. Misha’s growling made us both
smile.
“Fucking dog is a cock block,” he told me.
“Kiss me some more,” I pleaded.
So he did.

The following morning, we both woke up like we were hungover. Ada

wanted to hear where we had gone the night before, and I sat with her in the
living room and told her about Lauren Snyder.
She was crying in seconds. Of course she was. Her daughter had been
taken and so had Lauren. I was surprised when she grabbed my hands.
“Ada?”
“Oh, Maks, you saved her. You saved that angel.”
“I had help,” I said, glancing at Gale.
When she reached out her hand, he crossed the room to sit with her.
“You’re both such a blessing.”
It was nice to be lumped in with Gale, since I was crazy about him.
Ada made breakfast again, omelets this time, and instead of going home
to change before eating, Gale sat on the couch with me, arm around my
shoulders, leaning his head against mine.
“I feel like you’re having a really slow start to the morning, Deputy
Chief Malloy,” I goaded him, turning to kiss his cheek.
 “I just feel like somehow, someway, I could leave right now, and when I
get home, you might not be here,” he answered slowly, like the words were
hard to get out.
“I’ll be here,” I assured him. “And you can call and check on me, which
I won’t think is psycho and will instead think is sweet.”
He shook his head. “How did whoever let you go not see you for who
you are?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re a fuckin’ gift. How did whoever not see that?”
“I think not everyone sees me the same way you do.”
“That’s too bad,” he choked out and then hugged me.
“You sort of like me, huh?”
“Just a bit,” he whispered.
I went with him to his house, walking Misha, and would have gone in if
I hadn’t seen trucks roll up out front. It was Pansy from Dream Clean, there
to start on the house.
“Kiss me now in case you’re busy when I have to leave,” he demanded.
“No. You come find me if you want a kiss.”
The rakish grin was my reward. “Oh, I’ll find you.”
Thirty minutes later, he laid a kiss on me that rolled right through me
and left me staring after him as he walked to his car.
“Well, now,” Pansy said as she walked up beside me. “I had no idea the
deputy chief had that in him. I always found him to be a bit of a prude.”
I turned to look at her.
“Did you know there’s a hole in the ceiling in the living room?”
I nodded.
“How the hell did I miss that yesterday?”

Misha had gotten bored with hanging out with Ada, and since I was
concerned that he’d just show up in the house that had iguanas in it, snakes
in the front yard, and maybe even an alligator inside somewhere, I picked
him up and went back to my place to find his leash. Ada was coming
toward me from my house with what she called a sling.
“You’re just going to wear this like a cross-body purse.”
“What?”
“This way you can carry Misha.”
 But I didn’t want to schlep the dog like a baby as I went about my day.
However, this way he was safe, he didn’t whine since he was with me,
seemingly quite content, and he could see everything, which he liked.
“I look like an idiot,” I told Pansy’s son, Sage, who showed up with his
team to get the iguanas and check the front yard.
“No, man, you look like a dog dad. That’s how my girlfriend, Rue,
carries our Westie.”
“Rue? Really?” What’s was with all the flower and herb names?
“Yeah. Why?”
“Forget it,” I said, and waved him toward the basement. Five minutes
later, one of his team raced up to me and excitedly reported that there was a
caiman in one of the pools.
“Is it okay if I take her? I mean, we’ll take such good care of her and—”
“Yes. Please. And if you could check all over for anything else.”
“Totally. There are several empty eggshells down there.”
I didn’t even want to know.
“You have the coolest house ever,” Sage gushed, his voice dripping with
sincerity before he left to follow his colleague.
“Thanks?”

Misha passed out in the sling, doing nothing, tired from just being a dog,
unlike me, who was supervising and carrying small random things out of
the house to the enormous construction dumpster I’d rented. I was lucky
that Ada was not overly possessive about her things because having her
question everything that was thrown out would have made the task
exhausting. She was attached to her art and the paintings and sculptures,
which were in the gallery to the right of the foyer on the first floor. It was
one of the few pristine rooms. She was attached to her jewelry too, but most
of that was in the safety-deposit box at the bank, and she was fond of the
Limoges in the hutch in the dining room. She didn’t care about old
furniture, but I arranged for some of it—such as the Louis XIV pieces—to
be picked up by a company that would restore it. It was good to see the
rooms clearing out.
Around four in the afternoon, a big SUV with tinted glass pulled up to
the front, and four people got out. The driver, who looked like a powerlifter
with shoulders that could comfortably seat four and no neck that I could
see, stood next to the vehicle and didn’t move. He did, however, smile at
me when Misha stuck his head out of the sling, let it hang over the side, and
yawned. The dog had no care in the world.
“Is cute,” he said with a thick, I was thinking Armenian, accent.
“Thank you.”
The others, a man and two women, began walking over to me. It had
rained only briefly, but still, the women, walking in Louboutin pumps, were
struggling in dirt that wasn’t quite mud but wasn’t hard and compact either.
“Hold on,” I called out to them and sprinted over. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” the man said. “I’m Franz Farley, Abbot and Cordelia’s son, and
Ada is my aunt.”
“Okay.”
Looking unsure, he turned to the women. “This is my wife, Bethany
Whitmore-Farley, and our daughter, Eugenia.”
Poor thing. “People call you Genie?” I asked.
“I—no,” she told me, brows furrowed.
I shrugged. “What can I do for you, Mr. Farley?”
“Well, we live in Marin, in California, and when I went to pay some
bills yesterday, I was locked out of our account, and so instead of calling, as
I can’t ever seem to get the old girl on the phone,” he said, chuckling, “I
thought we’d pop up and visit, as we haven’t seen dear Ada in years.”
What that meant was that after noticing he’d been cut off, Mr. Farley
had decided to fly over with his family, I was betting in a private jet, and
had brought along their chauffeur, who I was guessing doubled as a
bodyguard, so he could drive them from Portland to Rune. It was an insane
thing to do just to have a discussion that could have easily been done over
the phone.
“Okay, well, two days ago Ada hired a new caretaker, they went
together to the bank and had everyone removed from the account but Ada,
whom the trust belongs to, and her new guy.”
Mr. Farley’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s you, is it?”
“Yessir, it is.”
He sighed, long and dramatic. “Then I guess we’ll finally have to go to
court and prove that my aunt is insane and take the money from her,” he
announced to his wife and daughter. “At least this way she can go to a home
where they can take excellent care of—”
 “Good luck with that,” I said coldly. “She hasn’t spent any money from
her own trust in years. You and yours have pulled nearly ten million from a
trust that was set up specifically for her and no one else, so—”
“Ten?”
I nodded.
“Goddamn, Harry, I told him not to use it for his— Listen, I don’t know
who you think you—”
“I’m the caretaker, sir, and as you can see, we’re renovating the house.
It needs quite a bit of work, and the money is going to that.”
“Well, I appreciate that, but she’s not in her right mind, and you’re just
taking advantage of an old woman who—”
“I’m fixing up the house,” I reiterated. “So with her money, Ada is
renovating her home. Please send anyone you want to see and talk to her,
but all we have to do is open the books, and anyone will be able to ascertain
who was, in fact, taking advantage of her.”
All three were staring at me like I was the devil. And I was, of course,
but they didn’t know that. Plus, I was carrying a really cute dog, so how
scary could I really be?
Misha gave them a yip, which for whatever reason startled Mrs.
Whitmore-Farley. He was no more terrifying than a fluffy bunny.
“Is that all?” I asked Mr. Farley.
“We need to go in the house and look for—”
At which point Sage popped out from the front yard with a yellow snake
—some kind of python, I was thinking—draped over his neck. The scary
part of that was pythons lived maybe ten years. I only knew that because
Stas had collected them, but what that meant was that someone had gotten
the pythons and then lost track of them. I had to wonder if people were
driving up to Ada’s place and just dropping off animals. I would need to
have a gate put up near the road to dissuade the whole dumping-of-God’s-
creatures situation.
Sage motioned excitedly to the creature around his neck. “Are you
seeing this, Mr. Gorev? Isn’t he a beauty? He’s an albino!”
He was clearly over the moon, so I gave him the thumbs-up.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I take him?”
“All yours, Sage.”
He looked over at one of the guys with him. “Did I not tell you?”
“Dude, seriously, best house ever.”
 Eugenia gasped. “There are snakes in the front yard?” she asked, as if
the situation was belatedly sinking in.
“Yes. And the boys took iguanas out of the basement.”
“And you don’t think that’s madness?” Mr. Farley barked at me.
“Obviously the house had fallen into disrepair between the last
caretaker leaving and the death of Ms. Farley’s beloved brother, but we—”
“That man was a lunatic!” Mr. Farley shouted.
“Hardly,” I told him, my voice low and icy. “Vigilante maybe, but when
you’re serving up revenge on people who deserve it, is that bad?”
I had looked up Ada and found many pictures of her but only a handful
of Oscar, her mysterious brother. In fairness, he seemed only an enigma to
me. All the articles I read painted him the same way, as a true hedonist,
living only for his own pleasure off his family’s money. The press was quite
judgmental of him back in the early eighties, which was when the few
photographs of the man were taken. He was, without question, a wickedly
handsome man. Tall, blond, he looked very much like Ada except while her
countenance was angelic, his was the opposite. It was the look in his eyes,
and the way his smile never reached them…at least in the photos on the
internet.
Hollis Martel, son of Thaddeus Martel, who made his money in steel
and mining back in the day, had once been engaged to Ada. The families
had been thrilled over the union, and the engagement pictures were
stunning. They had made a beautiful couple. Sadly, the gossip was that he
stepped out continually on his fiancée, and there were rumors that he was
abusive when they were alone. In the end, Martel had gone out one night
with friends, and two weeks later, his body was found floating in the East
River. People remembered seeing a man who might have been Oscar Farley
walking Martel out of a bar, but no one could say for certain. No charges
were ever filed.
Years later, he was again suspected in the death of Hugh Evans in Rune,
Oregon, another article said, but again, no charges were ever filed.
“Only God decides good and bad, Mr.…what was it? Gorev?” Mr.
Farley yelled at me, bringing me from my wandering thoughts.
“Yes. Gorev. And sometimes God takes too long, so we have to do it
ourselves.”
“Well, we—”
 “But as you can see, we’re in the midst of fixing everything, and we
can’t have any other drains on the account, as this project will probably be
quite pricey.”
“For what?” Eugenia spat. “To fix a crazy woman’s home that she’ll die
in all alone? This is madness when the money could be spent—”
“It’s her money. You’re all in the same family, so you must have your
own.”
All three were silently staring at me, and clearly seething.
“Everybody must work for the company,” I said, remembering what Mr.
Raleigh had told me. “Ada’s money is nothing compared to what the entire
family is worth. Maybe you should ask whoever runs things to increase
your monthly allowance.”
Nothing. Just more staring until Eugenia yelled, “Aunt Ada!”
Turning, I saw Ada walking up in yoga pants and an oversize sweater.
Her hair was up in a bun, held there with elaborately painted sticks. She
was wearing the same jewelry as when we’d met, so those had to be some
of her favorite pieces.
“Hello, Franz, Bethany, Eugenia,” she greeted them stiffly, then petted
Misha and put her hand on my shoulder. “There were iguanas down there.”
I grinned. “Yeah. And they were big.”
“As was the caiman,” she said, pretending to be aghast.
“Did you know it was down there?”
“You know, I honestly thought when they took the alligator that they
would have taken the caiman as well. I mean, really.”
I scoffed. “Well, the guys are draining the water that seeped in, and
when that’s done, they’ll get started on the French drain.”
“Got it,” she said, smiling.
“The drain should take eight to ten days, and once that’s completed,
everything can be covered in cement. I was going to just fill it in to the first
floor, but Mr. Zhao, who’s doing all the work to waterproof the foundation,
says we should think about putting in a bowling alley down there, or maybe
a racquetball court. What do you think?”
“Both?”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him.”
“Excellent.”
“We’re going to do the demolition on the attic once the foundation is
done. I’m going to start searching for architects next week so we’ll be ready
once we get the go-ahead from the building inspector.”
“But we have to wait until the attic is gone and the basement is
completely water-free.”
“That’s correct.”
She clapped her hands. “I’m so excited to be starting!”
“I know,” I said, smiling at her.
She reached up and cupped my cheek in her hand. “You and Gale have
just been angels. Darling, we really must talk about your salary.”
“Let’s worry about that later. You have to visit with your family.”
She turned to them. “Franz, dear, what did you need? Did you want me
to speak to your father about increasing your allowance?”
“No,” he replied nervously, glancing at me and then back to her. “I
thought we agreed that you would help offset costs that our allowances
don’t cover.”
She nodded. “Yes, but not forever. My goodness, it’s been over five
years that I’ve been carrying you and Harry and Ainsley for incidentals
beyond your own trust funds. But you see, now Maks is here, and he feels
that my home is what needs all my attention and money at the moment. We
have to get so much done before the winter, and it’s already May.”
“True,” I agreed.
“Well,” Mr. Farley said, “perhaps if we could come inside and take a
look at the jewelry, and you could see your way clear to giving us some of
your grandmother’s estate pieces, like the carnation diamond choker or the
—”
“Oh, Oscar had all the jewelry moved to the bank ages ago, except for
what I’m wearing and some of my favorite Chanel pieces from my Studio
54 days,” she said with a cackle, fisting her hands and giving a little
shimmy shake.
“No,” I ordered.
“The effect is better in a plunging beaded dress and stilettos.”
“Stop,” I groaned. “I don’t want that in my head.”
She was giggling. “So much sex and cocaine.”
“Just…no.”
Leaning in to me, she wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed,
bending over to kiss Misha’s head. “I’ll bet someone needs to go potty,” she
announced, and when she held out her hands, Misha scrambled out of the
sling to get to her.
 She put him down on the grass, and he yipped and darted away, lifting
his leg for a moment and then running, stopping after only moments to look
back, crouch down, ready to play, tail wagging as Ada chased him. The way
he jumped up in the air, nearly bouncing, barking and circling back, was
adorable. He couldn’t have been any cuter, and I was so glad to be able to
give him a life where he could run around and play and just be a dog. And
in that moment, a thought occurred to me.
“You look like you got hit by a bolt of lightning,” Ada said from where
she was, not too far away but enough that her voice had to carry a bit.
“What if,” I began, “after the house gets all fixed up, we could open an
animal sanctuary for dogs and cats and try to find all the little furry people
new homes?”
She stood there, just staring at me.
“Ada?”
Nothing.
I cleared my throat and tried again. “Ada?”
Her inhale of breath was loud. “Oh, Maks, I think that’s an utterly
marvelous idea. We could call it the Libby Farley Animal Sanctuary.”
“Yes, we could,” I agreed. “And we could use your potter’s mark as the
logo.”
She gasped and ran back, Misha right behind her, and flung herself at
me. “Oh, I knew it,” she said, arms wrapped around my neck, holding on. “I
knew you were the one, Maks. I knew you were supposed to be my
caretaker, my home’s caretaker, and now the caretaker for my land. Most
importantly, for Libby. You’re going to give my baby her legacy, and she
loved animals more than anything.”
“Not true,” I whispered into her ear. “She loved you most of all.”
She was sobbing then, and I hugged her tight.
“I forgot to ask you this morning, how did you know about Libby?” she
asked once she could breathe, pulling tissues from the pocket of her
sweater. I would need to start carrying some. I was thinking there would be
a lot of crying going on.
“Mr. Raleigh told me. He’s a very nice man.”
“Yes, he is. A lovely man.”
Misha was dancing around, trying to get up, whining, but surprisingly,
Eugenia bent and scooped him up. I saw her pet him, and he, in turn, licked
her nose.
 “Eugenia?” Her mother sounded shocked.
“How is he so impossibly cute,” she grumbled like she wasn’t happy
about that at all, and then her eyes lifted to mine. “And who are you?” The
disgust in her voice was easy to hear.
I grinned slowly. “Who are you?”
She exhaled an annoyed huff of air. “My friends do call me Genie,” she
confessed, glaring at me. “And I happen to have a degree in marketing.”
“Really? How interesting.”
Her long, drawn-out sigh sounded so very exasperated.
I decided to meet her halfway. “Could I interest you in a job here, with
us, and give you a break from whatever you’re doing in California that
maybe isn’t really for you?”
“How do you know it’s not for me?” she snapped.
“Just a hunch.”
She growled then. “Who are you?”
“I’m the caretaker here,” I answered, offering her my hand. “And we’re
gonna have a lot of room, Genie Farley.”
She groaned like she was just so fed up with me, but took my hand
anyway, and her grip was firm and warm. She looked like I thought Ada
probably had back in her Studio 54 days, with her long, thick ash-blond
hair, bright china-blue eyes, and golden tan.
“And we’ll even pay you,” I said, chuckling, noting that she was still
holding my dog.
“God,” she grumbled, reaching down to take off one of her heels, then
the other, and then wheeled around and headed back to the car. “I need to
return to the airport, Davit,” she called over to the driver. “I have to get
home and pack.”
“Eugenia!” her mother yelled after her.
“Hey, lady,” I called over.
She rounded on me, her eyes shooting daggers.
“Could you give me back my dog?”
“No,” she yelled, spinning around and stalking away.
“We can make her a suite,” Ada announced, sounding excited. “She
could choose her paint color and what she wants in there—oh,” she gasped,
and then ran toward the car so she could talk to Eugenia.
The young woman, who hadn’t yet gotten into the car, dropped her
shoes, put my dog down very gently, told him to go to his daddy, and then
held out her arms for her aunt. They hugged tight, and I was thinking that
sometimes life came knocking, and when it did, you had to take a chance
and jump. Eugenia was doing just that. I’d done the same, so I got how it
could be both terrifying and thrilling.
“Go home, Mr. Farley,” I told him as Misha reached me. I picked him
up and put him back in the sling. “The gravy train is over, so I suggest you
make other arrangements. We’re going to open a sanctuary.”
He was horrified, if the look on his face was any indication, and Mrs.
Whitmore-Farley started shrieking that all of us were insane. Into that scene
came Gale, coming up the drive, turning into his carport and parking his
cruiser.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he began walking over to us. I was
utterly riveted. He was the same man who had kissed me goodbye that
morning, yet for whatever reason, it felt like I hadn’t seen him in years.
“We had a report of some kind of situation out here,” Gale announced,
reaching me and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Deputy Chief Malloy. I appreciate your concern.”
He squinted at me. “Knock it off.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
“Answer the question,” he said, his fingers in the hair at my nape,
treating me, whether he realized it or not, like I belonged to him.
“I’m fine.”
“Well, Sage Tucker called in, and he was quite worried.”
I looked over at Sage and his buddy, who had another, smaller python
that they were carefully putting into a bag.
“That’s them, Deputy Chief,” Sage called over, pointing at the Farleys.
“They were screaming at Maks for no reason.”
Gale took a breath and cleared his throat. “Is that a python?”
“Actually, this one’s an anaconda,” Sage replied happily. “Dude, we’re
so pumped! There’s a sanctuary in Ontario that’s the perfect place for this
guy!”
“Oh, that’s where those went,” Ada said with a sigh. “Someone dropped
them here, and I had them in a box by the radiator to keep them warm, but
they all got out.” She smiled at me. “They were much smaller back then,
you understand.”
Of course they were.
 “You know, I always wondered why I didn’t have mice or rats in the
house,” she said turning to me. “That’s probably why, don’t you think? The
snakes.”
God. “Probably. Yes. And we need to put in a gate out front,” I told
Ada. “If people are going to dump things, I want to see what kind of animal
it is.”
“Whatever you think, dear.”
Gale cleared his throat. “I told you there were snakes.”
“Yeah, but I thought you meant like king snakes or even rattlesnakes or
something of that size. Those are not what I was expecting.”
“I was kidding,” he snapped, bending over and taking deep breaths.
“There was a caiman in the basement.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I can’t imagine it’s good.”
“Like a smaller alligator.”
“They’re actually more closely related to crocodiles,” Sage’s buddy said
as he walked by, carrying one of the bags. “I’m Barnaby Reilly,” he said,
offering me his hand. “Thank you again for calling us. This has been the
most amazing day, Mr. Gorev.”
“I’m so glad. And call me Maks.”
“Awesome.” He took a step closer with the squirming bag. “You know,
my band is playing at the Well on Friday. Maybe you—”
“He’s busy,” Gale said quickly, straightening up. Then noticing that the
bag was still twitching, he bent over again.
“Okay, cool,” Barnaby said, still smiling at me, before turning to Gale.
“You know, it’s not gonna bite you even if it gets outta the bag.”
“But it won’t get out of the bag, right?” I asked.
“No worries, Maks. I wouldn’t let it hurt you.”
“Thank you.”
“Could you take the snake away already?” Gale was clearly annoyed.
Barnaby gave me a head tip, then left, and I crouched down beside
Gale. “Breathe, baby.”
“Shut up,” he groused at me. “And he’s too young for you.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“He thinks you’re flirting with him, but you’re just being nice.”
“I try to be nice to everyone now.”
“Well, stop.”
“Pardon?”
 “Don’t smile so much,” he ordered, sounding ridiculous, which was
absolutely charming.
“I need to speak to you,” Mr. Farley yelled at me.
“Not now,” Gale and I said together.
“And I’ll work on being more of a dick,” I lied, enjoying how irritated
he was, unable to control my grin.
“I thought you were supposed to be scary.”
“Pardon?”
“You said people were afraid of you.”
“They used to be.”
“I might enjoy that,” he grumbled.
“No. You’re too nice of a guy yourself.”
“I can be mean too.”
Doubtful. “I’m sure you can,” I placated him.
He met my gaze. “The baby was good.”
I put my hand in his hair loving the feel of it sliding through my fingers.
“Okay,” he said, straightening up and turning to the Farleys. “Now, who
are you two, and why’re you yelling at Maks?”
Which basically closed the door on their visit.
“Oh, Gale,” Ada gushed happily when she returned from speaking to
Eugenia. “Guess what we’re going to turn all this land into?”
Gale started praying under his breath.
“What is he saying?” Ada asked me.
“He’s saying please God, don’t let it be a snake sanctuary.”
“Oh, heavens no, but yes, a sanctuary, for dogs and cats.”
“Thank God,” he rushed out, reaching over to pet Misha. “I hate
snakes.”
“Well, I don’t hate them,” Ada said, “but really, is this the best climate
for them?”
“No,” he insisted. “Not at all.”
She only smiled at him.
 ELEVEN

“Y ou know,” Ada was saying as she and I walked together toward

the bungalow two weeks later, Misha running in front of us, or
more accurately, bounding, as he was leaping in little arcs, “the
house is so very big, perhaps instead of having you and Misha live out here,
the two of you should move in with me, and we could offer the bungalow as
an incentive for the vet we’ll hire and keep on staff.”
“That’s a very kind offer, but we’re going to have Dr. Coleman be our
vet,” I explained. “We’ll partner with his clinic, which will help make
certain that it remains in our community, which benefits not only us, but
others.”
“So then each new dog or cat we get in will go to Dr. Coleman’s
clinic?”
“Exactly. But I do think the bungalow can be made into the office and
perhaps a place to keep animals who need to be quarantined. Once we break
ground on that, we’ll make certain we fence the entire area from where the
barn is back to the edge of the property.”
“Why not from where the drive begins at the frontage road? All that
land is mine.”
“And what does Gale own?”
“Oh, I see what you’re saying. His piece is strange. It’s that square the
house sits on and two acres back.”
“Okay. So we need to start, in my opinion, from the barn.”
“Well, you know best.”
 “I don’t think that’s true, but it’s sweet of you. What I do know is that
we need to have a conversation with a reputable builder, and they’ll be able
to tell us what can be zoned for residential and what can be zoned for
commercial. Our sanctuary will be a bit different as we’ll be a nonprofit, so
I’m fairly certain we can put a nonprofit near a residence, but again, a
builder who knows all about permits and what can go where will know
precisely what we can do.”
“You’re so clever, Maks. I really am so fortunate to have you here.”
“Keep that in mind, please, when we start to have conversations about
the house.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” she grumbled.
I smiled at her. “Here’s the thing. You have so many salons in the house
and little puzzle-box rooms that fit together, and I’m wondering if a more
open layout might be better, especially if, let’s say, Eugenia stays long-term,
has a family, or if there are other people whom you might want to invite
down the road.”
“You mean friends in need or other relatives.”
“A generational home. That’s what my mother had growing up, and she
loved it. Her grandparents on the ground floor, then her parents and she and
her brothers, then unmarried aunts and others above them.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“Your folks are gone—”
“Thank God.”
“Ada, that’s not nice.”
“Oh, Maks,” she said with a shiver. “If you knew them, you’d be happy
too.”
I couldn’t very well argue the point with her about parents since my
father was the devil incarnate. “Did you like your grandparents?”
Her smile was instantaneous. “I did. Especially my mother’s mother.”
“There, see? I miss my mother every day, and my grandmother, and I
mean this in the best way when I say that you remind me of them.”
“Oh, Maks, I take no offense. I’m sure your grandmother was
charming.”
“She really was and—what is that?” I yelled at Misha, seeing him shove
his nose into the dirt. “What’re you doing?”
Letting go of Ada’s arm, I bolted over. Apparently, he’d found an
anthill. “No,” I said, picking him up and tucking him against my chest. “We
don’t know what kind of ants those are. What if they can kill you?”
“I don’t think we have mutant ants here, darling.”
I wasn’t convinced. I steered Misha in a different direction, and off he
went, getting the zoomies now. Until a few days ago, I’d had no idea what
those were. Gale had to explain, having had cats when he was growing up
that did laps around the house at three in the morning. It was one of the
many things we’d discussed on the phone late at night since he’d been
gone.
There had been a law-enforcement training with the ATF that he had to
attend in Denver, and then a similar one at Langley right afterward. He’d
originally scheduled them back-to-back to get them done and to have a
vacation from Rune. Being back in a city would have been fun for him
especially since he might have even met someone to spend time with while
he was there. But now, everything was different. He didn’t want to be away
from Rune. Or more precisely, me. He wanted to be home. And now,
coming up on two weeks, he was climbing the walls. I was too. I missed
him, more than I thought I would, and was counting the days until his
return.
“Anyway,” I told Ada, “you need to give the house some thought. The
architect is coming tomorrow, along with a landscaper to take pictures and
give us quotes.”
She nodded.
“Then on Friday, the new temporary roof is going up, since we don’t
need water damage, but I don’t want to put on a whole new one if the
architect can put in a widow’s walk.”
“That makes sense.”
“We had all the paintings moved, and I found a Chagall in the blue
salon.”
“Oh, I’m glad it’s still there. Oscar loved him.”
“Also, there are a lot of closed boxes on the third floor, and if there’s no
mold or bat shit on them, you’ll be able to look through them. But if they’re
compromised, they’re all going in another dumpster trailer, and that’s off-
limits, okay?”
She nodded. “How do we feel about Chinese food?”
“Will it be delivered, or are we going to get it?”
“Delivered, of course. And speaking of, I had my regular grocery
delivery put in your refrigerator and cabinets, so we’re all stocked up.”
 “You mean your new delivery that I made you set up?”
She waved her hand dismissively.
I knew if I didn’t say it was time for lunch, she wouldn’t eat. It was the
same with breakfast. If she made it for me, she’d eat too, but for herself
she’d say she wasn’t hungry. Only when I made a point of reminding her
did she eat. I couldn’t imagine a time when Gale and I wouldn’t be sharing
meals with her. Not that I was complaining. You couldn’t ask for a more
entertaining breakfast, lunch, or dinner companion than Ada Farley. The
stories were simply amazing. She knew everyone. It was like breaking
bread with Diana Vreeland, whom my mother had known back in the day.
Later, waiting for the food, I was dozing on my bed when Gale called.
“I was worried you were blowing me off tonight.”
“No,” he grumbled. “I was going to surprise you that I was home, but
I’m stuck sitting out here in front of some kind of Addams Family gate!”
I lost it.
“It’s not funny, Maks! The hell is this thing?”
“It’s a wrought iron, and that’s Ada’s potter’s mark in the middle.”
“What is it supposed to be?”
“A sun, of course, for Summerland Drive.”
“Well, in the dark it looks like a giant scary mask.”
I chuckled.
“Could you stop laughing at me and open the gate so I can drive down
and see you?”
“You have your own fob. It’s here on my nightstand, waiting for you.”
“I don’t want it on your nightstand. In fact, I want you and Misha to
meet me at my house right now.”
“We just ordered Chinese food, so you’re going to have to wait.”
“No, no, I don’t wanna wait. And I’ll cook for you instead.”
“You’re not cooking your first night home,” I said, smiling into the
phone.
“Fine, I’ll have Chinese too, but I want to see you.”
“That can maybe be arranged,” I baited him.
“Oh, honey, please,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ll be right there, but
I’m dying to see you. A lot of the guys I was there on the training with,
they’ve known me a long time, and they said they’d never seen me so
excited to go home.”
“Is that right?”
 “Yes,” he ground out. “Dying to see you.”
“Same for me so…yeah. I’ll meet you at your place.”
He was silent.
“What?”
“Can you open the goddamn gate?”
I groaned. “It’s been opening. It just takes a minute. The guy’s coming
back tomorrow to reset it.”
His growl of frustration was adorable.
Walking out to the living room, I let Ada know that I was running over
to Gale’s place and would bring him and the food back with me.
“Is he finally home?”
“Yeah, but what do you mean by finally?”
“Well, you’ve been pining, my darling, so I’m thrilled that he’s back.”
“Pining?” I was defensive.
She laughed at me and pointed at the door.
I bolted from the room and left the house fast with Misha right behind
me. Even though I had the key, I knocked on his front door. I loved that the
door was instantly flung open and he stood there staring at me.
“Hi,” I greeted him.
“Hi back,” he returned, smiling wide as Misha darted by him and into
the house. “What took so long?”
“That wasn’t long,” I argued.
“Fine, whatever,” he said, hooking a hand around the side of my neck
and drawing me close.
“Wait,” I said, both hands flat on his chest. “Did you kiss anybody else
while you were gone?”
“Fuck no,” he replied sharply, glowering at me. “Did you?”
“No, I did not.” I grinned at him. “Okay, you can make with the kissing
now.”
“Are you sure?” he murmured under his breath before he bent and
kissed me.
I had missed kissing this man. It was new and exciting but also felt like
I’d been kissing him for a lifetime. Like we fit together perfectly. There was
so much yearning intertwined with a certainty of affection. I didn’t have to
guess with him. I knew I was both wanted and needed. I felt the same.
In moments he had me through the door and knocked back against it,
his hands all over me, up under my T-shirt, then down under the waistband
of my sweats, squeezing my ass. I was his for the taking, my body hot and
willing, going boneless under his touch.
It was a surprise when he stepped back.
“What’re you— I thought––”
“Chinese food, right? Ada’s expecting us?” He was heaving for breath,
his chest rising and falling, his hands fisted at his sides.
I chuckled. “She is. Yes.”
“I kinda hate you right now.”
“I have no doubt.”
“It’s not funny.”
I sighed deeply, loving the frustration on him and seeing how much he
wanted me. “Okay, so yeah, I wanna be in this with you.”
“In what with me?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
He nodded. “Come here.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I stepped close and wrapped my arms around
his waist. “I missed you so much.”
He grabbed me tight, crushing me against him. “I missed you too.”
Sometimes a hug was even better than passion.

I was on the couch with Misha, glancing around at Gale’s living room and
marveling at the interior, same as I’d done the first time I was there, after he
left for training. Funny that I hadn’t been in his place before that, but there
had never been a time to just pop over and check it out. I was busy, he was
busy, and the timing had never been right. Plus, his home seemed more
serious. Like if we were there, we had to put a name to us. Sleeping
together at my house, with Ada at the other end, but still there, was like
being there with a parent. We had to behave ourselves. But he’d given me
the key before he left and asked me to air out the rooms and water his
plants.
I’d been surprised because the outside of his home with the manicured
lawn, limelight hydrangeas, pink peonies, and Victor Hugo roses was
beautiful, but really, inside, his sweet little Craftsman was simply stunning.
There were open ceilings with exposed beams, the floors were
reclaimed barnwood, so they had a beautiful variety of color, and the
kitchen was all stainless-steel appliances with a deep farmhouse sink, pot
filler over the stove, and a refrigerator with glass doors so everything was
visible inside. The counters were white-veined granite, he had open shelves,
and the backsplash was subway tile.
The living room was done in shades of blue, the coffee table stained a
beautiful shade of navy, and even being a cool color, it was warm and
inviting, much like the man himself. The fireplace looked like it belonged
on Christmas cards, all heavy stone, and from the area rug to the pillows
and throws, it was pristine. I had been worried at first because Misha had
gone straight for the couch and rolled on the pillows.
“You know,” I commented when he walked back into the room, “I really
don’t see me and Misha spending a lot of time over here.”
“What? Why?”
I gestured all around me. “If Misha has an accident or shreds a pillow,
which he might do… I mean, anything could happen.”
Gale walked to his coffee table and lifted the lid. “You’ll learn this
about me, but so you know, I’m a planner, Maks. I’ve got that covered.”
Inside were stuffed toys and balls, some hard rubber ones, and a lot of
other things I had no idea existed, like a licking mat. Reaching in, he pulled
out what I suspected was supposed to be a monkey, but the eyes were red
and it had creepy eyebrows.
“What is that, a demon monkey?”
“Yes. A demon monkey,” he said, cackling, and threw it over in front of
the fireplace for Misha, who jumped off the couch and pounced on it. He
started growling, and it was having its face chewed on seconds later.
“That was nice of you.”
“He might still chew up the legs of my coffee table, or the stairs, even. I
had a roommate in college, and his puppy ate all our shoes, the chair legs,
table legs, stairs, molding, the pantry door—I mean, not the whole door,
just a hole through so he could reach his food, and for whatever reason, my
other roommate’s bras. He was also very fond of pizza boxes.”
“That’s horrifying.”
“Yes. And he was a St. Bernard, not a Morkie, so I suspect Misha just
doesn’t have that same level of destruction in him.”
“I would think not.”
“But again, I’m prepared. I also have dog dishes for him, I got bells for
the back door, and my yard is fenced all the way around, so he can run laps
and not get out.”
 “This is very proactive of you.”
“Well, I want you to be able to stay with me whenever you feel like it,
so there needs to be that option.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For doing all that thinking about me and Misha.”
He flopped down beside me on the couch. “All I think about is you,” he
confessed, leaning in. “Period.”
“That’s very honest of you to admit that.”
“I want you to know how I feel. And just so you’re aware, I don’t care
what he destroys in here. Nothing is irreplaceable except you and him.”
I chuckled. “You say that now, but when you get home to goose feathers
floating in the air like a bad movie, I think you’ll be singing a different
tune.”
He took hold of my chin then, gently. “I won’t. I promise. Just stay
here.”
“Now?”
“Now. Later. All the time.” He leaned in and kissed me softly, then
eased back to meet my gaze. “You should move in with me. Let Ada have
the house.”
“Because?”
“Because my place is nicer and we’ve been together every night since
we met.”
“Except when you left.”
“Which I hated,” he admitted. “I don’t wanna do that again.”
“That’s crazy fast,” I murmured. “You don’t really even know me.”
“We’ve talked for hours on the phone every night since I left.”
That was true. I knew him better than people I’d known all my life. “We
have,” I agreed.
“I know you, and when I think of you with someone else––”
“Oh, c’mon, I don’t even know any––”
“I don’t care. It’s important for me to tell you I want it to be just me.”
“Well, so you know, there is only you.”
He took a breath. “Okay.”
“Something’s wrong. Tell me,” I prodded him, kissing the underside of
his jaw.
 His breath caught. “No, I just… Do you ever worry and obsess about
something, and then when it’s okay, you need to take a minute and wrap
your head around the fact that it is?”
“No, not really, but…it sounds like you’re happy. Are you happy?”
He nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m thrilled,” he said, sounding anything but.
I snickered.
“Just, stay here with me. I want you and Misha with me in my house so
badly. I… This feels so different.”
“What does?”
“This. You,” he husked. “And I know it’s new, and that’s some of it, but
this reaction I’m having…I’ve never had it before.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing.”
He sighed. “It’s a very good thing.”
“I don’t have any other plans,” I soothed him, and eased him down for a
kiss.
In my head, I’d imagined us combusting when he got home. That he
would walk me through the front door of his house, close the door, and
throw me over his couch. I was certain that everything about men having
sex was rough and hard, as that was all it had ever been for me. I’d ached to
show others tenderness, but the encounters were always rushed, with
whispered demands of harder, faster, and fuck me. And while that was hot
and sexy, I always missed the tenderness and connection I kept hoping for.
“We need to get some things clear,” Gale murmured as he broke the
kiss, stood up, and held out his hand. When I took it, he pulled me to my
feet.
“What’re you—”
“Have you been through the whole house?”
“No,” I told him. “It felt intrusive without you here.”
“Then look around so you know where you’re going later,” he
announced, walking me from the living room, down a short hall, to his large
bedroom. “This is my room, our room whenever you’re here, which after
tonight, I hope will be all the time. I like the brown and cream colors, but if
you hate it, we’ll change it. That right there is an antique armoire I bought
years ago and never understood why.”
I stayed quiet, just listening.
 “Now I know. It was for you.”
Mine. For my stuff. I liked his thought process.
I was certain that to other people, he was moving too fast. To me, who
knew life could change in an instant, it was perfect. While everyone else
could ponder and make lists, take time to figure out what they wanted, Gale
knew. He’d decided. It was me. He had looked at the insane series of events
that had led me to his tiny town and decided that it wasn’t crazy but,
instead, fate.
“I moved that chair and stool in here so you can sit by the window and
read or watch the rain or whatever you want.”
It was a deep-buttoned leather wingback armchair with a matching
ottoman, and I couldn’t have picked myself something I liked better.
“The bathroom is right through there. There’s double sinks, the right
side is yours, and there’s space for all your stuff.”
“So that’s it? You just want me here?” I asked as Misha came into the
room, rushing over to me. I gave him a quick pat and deposited him on the
huge king-size bed.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “You need to be here, with me, so I feel grounded,
but…I will admit to feeling the same when I’m with you at your place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s you, not the house.”
“That’s very romantic.”
“Listen, I’m just being honest. As long as at the end of the night I get to
be in the same bed as you, wherever that is, I’ll be happy.”
“Okay.”
“You’re good for me.”
I’d never been good for anyone before starting over in this new life.
“And I think I’ll be good for you too.”
I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“If I wake up and you’re here, if I think of you coming here at the end
of the day, and think of Misha’s bed in front of my fireplace instead of the
ugly one in the bungalow—”
“Ugly?”
“Then I’ll be good.”
I smiled at him.
“I’ll be able to breathe.”
 The fact that his words flushed my body with warmth was not a
surprise.
“And Misha can sleep in bed with us as long as he stays on your side so
I can have every night what I’ve had since I met you.”
He meant that he liked being wrapped around me, plastered to my back.
I liked it too and had missed him there, in bed, with me, more than I was
ready to profess.
“The renovations on that house are going to take time, and I need my
space, and so does Ada, and you belong here with me, not there with her.”
I was quiet for a moment. “She still needs us, though, so does back and
forth work for you?”
“Yes,” he said, grinning at me. His gorgeous pale-green gaze had
darkened, heated, and all I saw there was desire. “If I get to sleep with you,
it works for me.”
“Then I speak for Misha as well when I say we’re all yours.”
“Oh my God, I’m so happy,” he said, leaning away from me, putting his
hand over his heart before he rushed over to the bed to hug Misha. “It’s all
me and you now, buddy.”
“You’re an ass,” I told him, laughing.
But he wasn’t listening to me. He was giving Misha tummy scratches
instead.

The Chinese food was just okay. I needed to take both Gale and Ada to
Chicago, to Chinatown, and there we would get some really excellent
Szechuan beef. What suddenly made me sad was that I might never be able
to. Until there was no threat to my life, which I couldn’t imagine ever
ending, as there would always be someone who knew my name, I would
need to remain in WITSEC.
“You know,” I said gently to Ada, “when we get the sanctuary up and
running, I’m going to need you to be the face of the company and never
mention me.”
Her brows furrowed. “This has to do with how you simply arrived here,
out of the blue, doesn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Are you in danger?”
“No,” I assured her. “But I would be if my picture got shown around.”
 “Okay, then. You can be in the background, as long as you know how
much you mean to me already, in such a short time.”
“I know,” I said softly, reaching for her hand.
“What’s with him?” Gale asked, tipping his head at Misha, who was up
on one of the burlap club chairs facing the front window, looking out on the
yard.
“Misha, get down,” I ordered.
Of course he didn’t listen. I had not really drilled in my authority, and I
saw some kind of behavior classes in our future, but when he growled, that
low rumbling thing he did, I was surprised.
“Oh God, what if there’s a wolf outside?”
“There aren’t any wolves here, dear,” Ada assured me. “A mountain
lion would be far more likely.”
I turned to Gale for confirmation.
“I think I’ve seen one since I moved here, and that was way up on the
ridge line. It’s far more likely that—”
There was a shot.
The sound would be forever imprinted in my brain.
I’d been shot at many times, hit a few, so I was already moving by the
time the second one came.
The window next to Misha shattered, and had the rifle been an
automatic, which I was used to, Misha would be dead. There was no way a
barrage of bullets would have missed him. Instead, one bullet hit the wall
next to the refrigerator. The next lodged into the living-room wall.
Single bullets. Bolt-action rifle. Certainly one a sniper used, and yet I
wasn’t hit.
“Misha!” I yelled, and he jumped off the chair and ran for me. Ada
grabbed him because she was under me, shielded by my body.
Gale was crawling toward the back door. “I’m gonna go get my gun and
—”
“Fuck no, you’re not,” I yelled at him.
“Maks, I’m unarmed,” he retorted angrily, and I knew why. He was
scared and vulnerable, terrified of losing me, of Ada getting hurt or Misha. I
knew he wasn’t worried about himself, and I sympathized, but him running
outside when we didn’t know who was out there or how many there were
was a terrible idea.
 Another shot, this one near where Gale would have been if he’d kept
moving. And that made no sense, but then it clicked in my brain. I wasn’t
the smartest guy, but I knew who would come after me and who wouldn’t.
“Code thirty,” Gale yelled into his phone, having decided to call his
station for help since I was not letting him out of the house. “Shots fired at
my home. Be advised that I’m in the bungalow behind the large house.”
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I called Deputy US Marshal
Martina Alvarez, and she answered on the second ring. “Are you in distress,
Maks?”
I had to wonder if she had all the numbers of the people she watched
programmed into her phone, or if I was one of the lucky ones since my case
was so high profile. “Shots have been fired into my home,” I told her
quickly.
“Okay, stay on the phone. I’m on my way and bringing backup.”
Another shot, again toward the back of the house, and then Misha
started barking, got away from Ada, and would have returned to his chair, I
was sure, but I snagged him and tucked him under my chin. He was barking
his head off and growling for good measure. He was mad that someone was
in his yard.
“It’s okay,” I soothed him, rubbing my chin on top of his head. “You’re
a good boy. Yes, you are, such a good boy.”
There were lights on the front window for a moment and then gone.
“I think whoever did the shooting just left,” I told Alvarez. “But you
should probably still come, don’t you think?”
“We are going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting when I get there,” she
told me. “And you should pack your things and find someone to take your
dog.”
I laughed. “I’m not doing any of that. See ya when you get here.” I hung
up before she could say another word, then looked at Gale across the room.
“You just got here,” he said sadly.
“Come here.”
On his hands and knees, he crawled over to me, dropping down beside
me and Ada.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. “But I think we should take this
time before everyone but the marines gets here to figure out who’s trying to
kill you.”
 His breath caught, and he stared at me. “No, Maks, this was about you,
not—”
“Unfortunately, that was all about you.”
“That can’t be.”
But I knew better.

Two hours later the bungalow was filled with people. Ada was giving yet
another statement in the kitchen. Chief Ramirez and her officers were
coordinating with Sergeant Eric Dix of the Oregon State Police.
“Why does shit always happen in this town?” Dix asked Ramirez.
“Not all the time,” she assured him, smiling as she held Misha.
Everyone got briefed on the fact that I was a high-value witness in the
prosecution of a member of the Russian syndicate.
“That being said,” Alvarez began, glancing at me, “I have to agree with
Maks that this was not an attack on him but instead an attack on Deputy
Chief Gale Malloy.”
I’d worked it out: whoever had been looking into the house had shot at
Gale, not me or Ada. When Gale went toward the back door, so did the
bullets.
“Also,” Byers chimed in, having come with his partner, “if Maks’s
former associates found out his whereabouts, they would have sent a kill
team, not one man with a bolt-action rifle.” He sounded resigned. “There
would be five or six guys with automatic weapons, and they would have
strafed this house with bullets and then come inside. No one would be left
alive. Maks is a hundred percent correct in his supposition.”
Alvarez nodded. “Plus, I must reiterate that no Witness Security
Program participant who has followed all program guidelines, like Maks
has, has ever been harmed or killed. Period.”
It was a damn impressive track record.
“For all intents and purposes, Maks has been, so far, a model WITSEC
participant. He has made a fresh start that is completely separate from who
he once was. There is no possible way that this was an attempt on his life.
That being said, we cannot allow him to remain here in this community.”
“That’s not fair,” Ada said, getting up from the kitchen table and
walking into the living room. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
 “That’s true, ma’am,” Alvarez agreed, “but any coverage in the
newspaper would include Maks, and we simply can’t have that.”
“But he has a new name,” Ada argued.
“Yes, but not a new face.”
“We can keep it out of the newspaper,” Chief Ramirez assured Alvarez.
“I can speak to Javier Vega, who now owns the town paper, to make sure
there’s no mention of this incident.”
Small town. So small. I was certain that until that moment, Alvarez
didn’t really get how tiny the place actually was.
“Maks already has a stellar reputation in the community,” Gale chimed
in. “Moving him from here when he’s only just arrived seems like a waste
of both time and resources.”
Dix said, “I will chime in here and say that the biggest town around is
Seaside, with a population of nearly 8,000.” He looked from Alvarez to
Byers. “I think you’ve done an excellent job of placing a high-profile
witness, and I’m certain the FBI would agree with me.”
“This is an insular community,” Ramirez told the two marshals. “In
such a short time, Maks has made a place for himself and will continue to
be an asset, I have no doubt.”
Everyone speaking for me was humbling. I had been a pariah in my old
life, but no one saw me that way anymore.
Alvarez took hold of my bicep and led me out the front door. Together
we walked out into the yard, near the barn. I noted that it was all closed up
for the night. Ada never missed taking care of her sheep.
Alvarez let me go, took another few steps, then rounded on me. “Well?”
“This isn’t my fault.”
“Yes, I know. I’m just concerned for your safety.”
“Again, this isn’t about me. This is about Gale, and since I care about
him, I need to get back in there to do some brainstorming and figure out
who wants him dead.”
She nodded. “I do agree that if your father found out where you were,
he would send the best people he could to end your life. Money would be
no object.”
“Haven’t the Feds frozen all his assets?”
“I’m sure he could borrow it or—c’mon, Maks, we both know he’d
figure out a way to get it done.”
“I agree.”
 She took a breath. “I was going to tell you this next week when I came
out to see you, but Lev Kamenov was recovered in Paris.”
“Paris?” I had to smile because I knew who else was there. “Was he
with my stepsister?”
“Yes. Everyone thought he was in love with your cousin—”
“Dinara,” I offered.
“Yes. But apparently, that was for appearances. It was Galina he was
crazy about, and from what we understand, when your father was informed,
he threatened Kamenov’s life.”
“I bet.” Couldn’t have two of his own children in love.
“My understanding is that Kamenov, for his protection, will be sent to
ADX Florence.”
Lev would live out the rest of his life completely alone in a supermax. I
couldn’t think of a worse punishment for the naturally gregarious man.
It was strange to think that if he hadn’t betrayed me, if, instead, Lev had
come to me and told me he was in love with Galina, I would have assured
him it could never be. There was no future with my stepsister. Even not
knowing he was my father’s son; I could have counseled him that Grigory
Lenkov would never let him marry his daughter. To keep him safe, so my
father would never know that he and Galina had been together, I would
have gotten Lev away from the family. Sava would have hidden him as a
favor to me, and he would have lived the rest of his life in exile, but happy.
Now, because he’d turned on me, his freedom was a thing of the past.
“I’m surprised the justice department doesn’t want Lev to testify to
what he knows and place him in WITSEC as well.”
“You’re the only witness the Feds need to make their case, Maks. That’s
why decisions have to be made to determine if you are, in fact, safe in this
town.”
“I think the first step to figuring that out would be to find out who was
here shooting tonight, and why.”
She couldn’t fault my logic.

Given that the bungalow was a crime scene, I thought it odd that we were
allowed to remain there, but as Sergeant Dix pointed out, there were three
bullet holes, no breach had been made, so therefore, as long as the house
was guarded by troopers, it was safe.
 An hour later, Ada was asleep in her room. Gale and I were sitting at the
kitchen table, with Misha asleep in his bed, which had been moved to the
chair beside me. He would sleep as long as he was right next to me. Several
people commented on how cute he was.
Alvarez took a seat on the other side of Gale, opened a laptop, pressed a
button, and then we were all looking at Special Agent Monica Lewis.
“Hey,” I greeted her, smiling as Sergeant Dix and Chief Ramirez pulled
up chairs so they too could see Lewis.
Brows furrowed, not wearing her normal attire of a crisp, polished suit
but instead a Harvard sweatshirt that had seen better days, she was glaring
at me.
“I’m safe,” I assured her. “Really. I won’t die in some stupid crossfire
after making it out of Chicago alive.”
“I agree,” she said, and I realized I’d been holding my breath, terrified
that I would have to leave a new home I’d just found. “However, to ensure
your continued safety, I need this Reid Wells, who’s a person of interest in
the attempt on your partner’s life, found immediately.”
I smiled at her.
“Shut up,” she grumbled at me.
“How do you already know about Gale?”
“I’m an FBI agent, Maks, not a mall cop.”
I laughed, and she glared at me, or tried to. She ended up smiling as
well.
Poor Gale looked like somebody hit him, so without thinking, I took
hold of his hand. I was relieved when he squeezed tight.
“Reid?” Gale barely got out, sounding broken.
“Who is Reid Wells?” Dix asked Lewis.
“He is the brother of deceased SWAT officer Dean Wells, who—”
“Who,” I rushed out, “clearly blames Deputy Chief Gale Malloy for his
death.” No one needed to know that Dean and Gale had been anything more
than colleagues. It didn’t do anything for the narrative, so I hoped that
Lewis wouldn’t feel the need to share that piece with anyone else.
Lewis stared at me a moment and then met Dix’s gaze. “That’s correct.
It took zero digging to find out that Wells bought a bolt-action rifle three
days ago and headed from Los Angeles, where he’s been living, up there to
Rune. He’s basically telegraphed his plan to make the person he feels is
liable for his brother’s death, pay, to bring closure to the family. The issue
being, of course, that the deputy chief is not in any way responsible for
Dean Wells’s death. Ex-officer Wells was no longer a member of SWAT
when he was killed in a drug raid with DEA agents. What’s somehow worse
is that had he not been killed by the DEA, the Contreras Cartel surely would
have come for him. This is textbook addiction and career suicide.”
Everyone was quiet.
“Reid is considered armed and dangerous, and until he’s apprehended,
you, Maks, as well as Deputy Chief Malloy and Ms. Farley, will be
removed to a safe house.”
“There are sheep that need to be taken care of,” I told her.
She glared at me. “Sheep?”
“And cats that need to be fed.”
“Cats?”
She was repeating what I was saying, and I found myself squinting at
her.
Chief Ramirez said, “I will speak to Peter Kay, who has his own sheep
and alpacas. I’m certain he will watch the sheep for Ms. Farley, as he’s the
one who shears them yearly.”
Agent Lewis’s gaze met mine.
“The cats?”
Lewis looked back to Ramirez.
“And I will speak to Dr. Coleman and make arrangements to have the
cats fed.”
“Are we good?” Lewis asked me.
“We’re in the middle of renovations,” I told her.
“That can all continue to go forward. You will simply not be there until
Wells is apprehended. I see emails and text messages in your future.”
“I have an architect coming tomorrow.”
“And do you want the nice architect caught in the crossfire?”
“Of course not.”
“Then?”
“I’ll text and email.”
“Good man,” she praised me.
“How long do you imagine this will take?”
Lewis looked at Dix.
“We will have him within twenty-four hours.”
 “Twenty-four hours,” she told me. “And if for some reason the state
police fail to apprehend this man, which I can’t imagine they would,” she
said in deference to Dix, “then other arrangements will need to be made.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dix assured her.
“I have every faith,” she replied.
Compared to the enormous mountain of muscle that was Sergeant Dix
—the man had to be six-five, six-six, with biceps like tree trunks—Special
Agent Lewis should not have been the scariest person in the room. And yet
somehow she was, with her indulgent smile and no-bullshit manner.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Deputy Chief Malloy,” she told
him. “And though my first priority is Mr. Gorev, I want you to know that
you have all my sympathy. The state police will keep you safe and they will
find Mr. Wells.”
He nodded. “Reid was a nice guy,” Gale told her. “I mean, he
worshipped Dean, and I have no doubt that watching his brother fall apart
has led us here.”
“Well, just know that you’ll all be safe, and despite appearances,
meaning, despite all of us, all his protections, Maks Gorev is a fine man,
and I hope for good things for both of you.”
Gale had been in a fog until those words, but now I could see him
breaking down. It had to be hard, having your past come back to haunt you.
But the way he looked at her and then said, “Thank you,” like he was
pulling it out of his heart, got me thinking, again, about the future I already
wanted with the man.
 TWELVE

T hree hours later we were in Gresham, Oregon. Our transport vehicle

was armored, not comfortable in the least, but I was concerned about
that for Ada, not myself. Gale had barely spoken a word, and I would
have been scared that he was pulling away, rethinking his life choices where
I was concerned, except that he sat right next to me the whole time, thigh
plastered to mine, arm around my shoulders, with Misha stretched out in his
lap like he was on a beach in Hawai’i, soaking up the rays.
“I thought dogs slept curled up in balls,” one of the state troopers said.
“Not when they completely trust their people,” Ada told him, smiling
adoringly at my dog. Misha was willingly showing Gale and me his
stomach when sleeping that way, even occasionally snoring. He had faith in
us.
At the beautiful two-story house that overlooked a backyard that was
even more perfectly manicured than Gale’s, I could tell Gale was
impressed. The redwoods were enormous, the decor was gorgeous with all
the hanging flowers and small items, and I had to wonder why a safe house
was so beautifully kept. I had questions, and so did Gale.
“Tell me what they say in the morning,” Ada told me. “I’m done. I’m
asleep on my feet.”
Once Gale and I said our good-nights to her, I rounded on the marshals.
“Explain this to me,” I asked Alvarez and Byers, who had made the trip
with us in their car, since we were now a mere forty minutes from Portland.
“Why the amazing kitchen with the inlaid tile island? It’s a lovely home.”
“I don’t understand the question,” she said flatly.
 “Yes, you do,” Gale assured her. “I’ve guarded people in safe houses,
and this ain’t it.”
“Fine. This isn’t actually a safe house. It’s owned by private citizens,
and we rent this one, and others, like an Airbnb,” Alvarez said around a
yawn. We’d all been up round the clock, and it was now six in the morning.
“You’re not worried about us?” I asked Byers.
“Not like we need to barricade you in. We just needed to move you. The
FBI thinks Wells is still in Rune, readying a second attack. Either that, or
he’s already driving back to LA, where there’s a BOLO out on him and
SWAT is ready to pick him up. Personally, my money is on him being in
Rune. I suspect he truly believes he can kill Deputy Chief Malloy.”
“Why do you think it’s taken him so long to act?” Gale asked Alvarez,
switching it up, wanting answers from both of them.
“Sometimes it takes years for the fallout of a killing or a murder to
really take hold,” she replied gently. “I need you to understand, Deputy
Chief Malloy, that this is not your fault. His life has fallen apart, and he’s
blaming you instead of moving forward to fix it. That’s unfortunate, but
again, not your fault.”
“Call me Gale,” he told her. “The title is grating.”
She nodded, and then her phone pinged and she excused herself.
“From the latest report we have,” Byers began as the three of us stepped
outside onto the back deck, “it looks like Wells had a girlfriend who left
him after he himself got into drugs. She has since married a DA in New
York and had a child.”
“You think that was the trigger?” I asked Byers.
“It certainly could have been. His parents get divorced, then his girl
leaves him and has a child with another man, and that leads back to where
he felt it all went bad, which was when his brother was killed.”
Gale walked to the railing and leaned over as Byers excused himself
and went back inside. “I wish Reid would have just reached out to me. We
could have talked together like we used to.”
“Why did you lose touch?” I moved over to stand beside him, putting
my hand on his back and leaning into him.
“After Dean was killed and the truth about our past relationship came
out, even though his parents didn’t approve of us being together, they didn’t
understand why I didn’t do more to save him.” He sounded defeated. “His
mother was especially caustic, saying that the shame of what her son had
done with me probably pushed him to the drugs.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He turned to look at me then. “And I’m sorry, but I wasn’t completely
honest with you when I told you about my own family. The reason I moved
to Rune had a lot to do with Dean dying, yes, but also, my family doesn’t
condone my being gay either. I mean, my parents aren’t the kind of people
who would throw me out on the street, but we were never close after I came
out in my senior year of high school. Everything just stopped. I wasn’t
included anymore, and neither wanted to touch me.”
“So no hugs, no nothing,” I stated.
“Right.”
“And after you left home?”
“We were all still there in New York but had no contact.”
“So you all lived in the same city but didn’t speak?”
“Correct. And now, because of that, when we do talk, once in a blue
moon, everything’s strained with my parents and my sisters. I still hold out
hope, but as the years pile up without communication, the need for them—
for any of them—decreases.”
I understood that. “Why didn’t you tell me?” We had talked about so
much while he was gone, endless conversations where I found the phone
next to my head on the pillow the following morning.
“I didn’t want you to think I was the kind of person who gave up trying
with family. It’s important to me that you see me as being there for the long
haul.”
“I do,” I assured him. “I see you.”
“That’s good, because especially now, with us,” he said, smiling at me,
putting a hand on my cheek as he looked at me, “I’m starting to see the
beginnings of a new family, and I want that more than anything. I didn’t
want you to doubt that I could make a commitment when the time comes.”
“Well, with Misha, there’ll be three of us.”
“And someday maybe more?” he said huskily, holding me still as he
bent to kiss me.
I pulled back so he missed my lips. “More?”
He chuckled, and it was a good sound. Warm, sexy, like he was himself
again. “Yeah. Maybe another dog? Something bigger?”
“Ah. Like a German shepherd maybe?” I teased, thinking of Gunther.
 “Could be,” he said slyly.
“You just want a dog that people are scared of and don’t make kissy
noises at.”
“What? I hadn’t even considered that.”
“Liar,” I said, laughing. “And really, as long as whatever you choose
likes Misha and doesn’t try and eat him, I’m game.”
“Agreed,” he replied with a sigh. “And also, down the road, before I’m
too much older, I want a life with you and a family that includes children. I
think that’s important for you to know.”
“We haven’t even known each other a whole month yet.”
“But it’s close,” he countered quickly. “And I’m not saying I want to
adopt kids tomorrow. I’m just telling you I want everything with you.”
“Everything? Are you sure?”
“Yep. And I’m telling you all this because I have a feeling about us.
Period. I knew from the moment I saw your beautiful dark eyes on me and I
nearly passed out.”
“Knock it off.”
“I swear it’s true. It was like being hit by lightning.”
“You’re a sap.”
He nodded vigorously. “True, but I don’t care.”
I couldn’t help smiling at him. I was crazy about him even though he
was an idiot. But so was I.
“And I know something else.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re going to make a great father.”
I stared up at him. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
His smile was warm. “I’ve heard you, Maks. You know about love. It’s
in every word you’ve ever said about your mother and brother when we’ve
talked about them on the phone. And I know that your father’s a monster,
you’ve told me that too, but I’m thinking that you not being anything like
him sounds like a great first step to knowing the kind of father you don’t
wanna be.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I think you’re still holding on to the past to remind yourself that you’re
not a good man or that things could go wrong at any second. But I think
what we should both learn from this nightmare with Reid is that the only
way to live in the present is to be present. No more uncertainty or hiding for
either of us. We’re on the right track now.”
“I—”
“And conversely, wouldn’t growing up near an animal sanctuary be
great for kids?”
Of course it would.
“Teach them responsibility and empathy,” he said, tilting my head up as
he bent close. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful, my wayward man?”
I took a breath, and when he kissed me, I felt it—the connection, his
hope, and my surrender to his ridiculous plan. I’d been looking for the
North Star for so long and finally found one in him.
He broke the kiss when he heard Misha yelp, and we both leaned over
the railing and looked down at him. I hadn’t even heard him go down the
many steps to the backyard, but there he was, and he’d suddenly found
himself cornered by a large white ceramic duck with a gingham bandanna
around its neck.
“Really,” I called down to him as he growled and barked at the
sculpture.
“That’s so embarrassing,” Gale assured him as Alvarez stepped out onto
the back deck, closing the screen door behind her.
“Am I to understand that Ada Farley is an heiress?”
“Yeah,” Gale told her. “The Farleys are one of the families that made
the railroads by selling steel. That’s old money. The family is originally
from Pennsylvania.”
To me, she said, “And you’re Ada Farley’s new caretaker, and your
name is with hers on all her accounts?”
“Yep.”
“Well, apparently, if anything happens to Ada, you’re also the executor
of her estate, so you’ll be the one who delivers the news of who gets what.”
“Super,” I muttered, thinking of the Farleys I’d already met. “But the
good news is, she’s in great health. She won’t be passing anytime soon.”
“And most of the family is far better off than Ada,” Gale chimed in.
“Her small fortune is from a trust set up by her grandfather.”
“I’m sorry,” Alvarez said, “did you just call forty million dollars a small
fortune?”
“It’s less than that,” I replied, but then thought I might be wrong.
Without other people pulling money out, it could probably grow.
 “Even if it is,” Gale explained, “in comparison to the rest of the family,
it is small.”
I smiled at Alvarez. “We’re just fixing up the house and making a dog
and cat sanctuary. No big deal.”
“And the sheep,” Gale reminded me.
“Yeah. The sheep.”
Alvarez looked at me as Misha came up the stairs, walked over to me,
threw his head back, and howled.
“You could just use your words,” I told him, bending to pick him up.
“You don’t have to be so dramatic all the time. And what happened with the
duck? It’s not even real.”
He thunked his little head against my chest.
“Poor guy,” Gale said, “like he’s ever seen a ceramic duck before. Cut
him some slack.”
“Maks, we’re going to have to revisit this situation of yours on an
ongoing basis. There may come a time, if you become too recognizable,
that we have to move you again.”
I nodded. “And at that time, you’ll have to move my family with me,” I
told her.
“What family?”
“Me,” Gale said flatly. “And Misha, of course. There might be more by
then as well. He’s not going to be alone anymore.”
No. I was not.

After breakfast, which Gale and I both drank in the form of protein
shakes—anything heavier and we’d pass out—I got calls from all the
people who couldn’t get onto the property because of the stupid gate.
“That gate,” Gale said, clearing his throat. “Whose idea was that?”
“Zip it,” I snapped at him, still on the phone with the gate guy.
Once he got there and opened the stupid thing, I told him to leave it like
that until further notice. I was tired, so my patience was nonexistent, but I
tried to be nice to everyone I spoke to as I answered questions. Byers, who
had taken a nap in one of the bedrooms, suggested we both try and get some
shut-eye. But sleeping during the day was a bad idea if I ever wanted my
schedule to return to normal. Gale agreed with me. So while Ada woke up
around noon, ready for lunch, appearing refreshed, he and I looked like
extras from The Walking Dead.
“Just a small nap?” Ada suggested to us as she sliced apples.
I glared at her.
Gale shook his head and went back to watching TV next to the
fireplace.
“You’re going to fall asleep over there,” I warned him.
“Mind your own business,” he retorted.
I couldn’t help laughing, and when he looked at me and saw me
smiling, it only took him a second to smile back.
“I’m in a bad mood, Maks. Let me be in a bad mood.”
“You want some ice cream instead?”
He agreed to my terms.
Later, we were sitting at the table playing mahjong, which surprisingly,
we all knew.
“Who taught you to play?” I asked Gale.
“My roommate in college.” He yawned.
“You?” I asked Ada.
“My grandmother. She learned when she traveled through China as a
young woman. And you?”
“Head of one of the triads we did business with.”
“I find that very exciting,” she told me.
“Especially if you knew we played for people,” I said, waggling my
eyebrows.
She shook her head at me. “I don’t believe you. You’re hardly a Bond
villain, my darling.”
“I could be.”
Gale found our conversation hysterical.
“Isn’t it interesting,” she said as we were all picking tiles, “that had you
not come to us, Maks, Gale might have been killed by the confused young
man with the vendetta.”
Gale stopped moving and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, whether Maks was there or not, Mr. Wells was going to show up
when he did. But because you, Gale, were in the bungalow, not in your
home, you weren’t at the front of the property where he could have just
picked you off.”
That was true.
 “And Maks didn’t let you go get your gun when you wanted to, and
surely Mr. Wells could have killed you when you left the house.”
Also true.
“Most importantly, Maks was the one who figured out very quickly that
you were under attack, not him. And if he hadn’t been there, the FBI
wouldn’t have been on hand to quickly determine who the shooter was.”
“Huh,” Gale said after a moment.
“So really,” she said, reaching for my hand and taking it gently in hers,
“we’re so fortunate Maks was here to quickly get to the bottom of this.”
I looked at Gale. “I saved your life.”
He nodded. “Yeah. In more ways than one.”
Ada sighed. “What a terribly romantic thing to say.”
And it was.

That night, lying together in bed, I leaned in to kiss him, but he was
already asleep. Somehow, though not romantic, it felt very normal. Yes, we
were in a safe house because Wells was trying to kill Gale, but I could see
us, in the future, just being together, living our lives, and being dead tired as
well. My fantasies had never moved past the finding-someone stage
because that was the only part I could imagine. Day-to-day life had never
entered my mind, since how could that have ever happened? But now,
suddenly, anything was possible, and I found myself ready.
Rolling onto my side, Gale was immediately there. Even comatose, he
made sure to spoon me, his arm anchoring me close. I was going to turn my
head and say something to him, but Misha took that moment to lick my chin
and then curl into a ball in the hollow of my throat, so I had puppy hair up
my nose.
“You’re a pain,” I whispered to him as he made his little getting-situated
noises, part whimpers, part grunts. He rocked back and forth a few times,
and then, once settled, sighed deeply. There was an answering sound from
Gale. Apparently, I was what everyone needed to sleep.
It wasn’t such a bad deal.
 THIRTEEN

S ergeant Dix, making good on his promise, apprehended Gale’s

assailant the following day. Wells had driven back down the road
toward the bungalow, thinking…I honestly had no idea what, but
probably that the thunderstorm rolling in would somehow hide his
movements from whoever might be out there looking for him. The Oregon
State Troopers were in no way fooled. They chased him across the property
and into Ada’s house, where he promptly went up the stairs to the second
floor and fell through the hole there. He didn’t die, but since there was no
bed there to catch people anymore, he did break his left ankle. The troopers
took him into custody and then immediately to the county hospital in
Seaside.
Alvarez came out to the safe house, where we were having breakfast on
our second morning there, and gave us the news.
“We really should do something about that hole,” Ada told me.
“Yeah, I’m working on it,” I replied, squinting at her.
Her laughter was good to hear.
I called a car service to drive us home in a lavish limousine, and even
though Gale said it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t want either of us driving with
how little sleep we got. Being off our schedule meant we had basically been
up a full twenty-four hours the day before. As predicted, we were all out in
minutes once the drive began. I gave the man a large tip.
Gale went to the hospital in Seaside to talk to Reid, with Ramirez and
Dix overseeing the visit, and the story was basically as my protectors,
Deputy US Marshals Alvarez and Byers, had assumed. When Reid had
thought about who to blame, one name popped up more than others. He
immediately came after Gale with a vengeance. Nothing was going to
miraculously be fixed, history could not be rewritten, but Gale left hoping
that the time in prison Reid received would at least get him the help he
needed.
“How long will he be incarcerated?” I asked Gale when he got home.
Misha and I were waiting for him on the porch of the Craftsman, and I had
to admit it felt like home.
“The maximum is normally nine years, but intent and premeditation
have to be proven.”
I squinted at him.
“Okay, so yeah, he’s going to get the maximum with buying the gun,
getting in his car, and driving all the way up here.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Gale, but I don’t want him out in the world
where he can hurt you. And though I’m good with a gun, I’m better with a
knife.”
His brows furrowed as he looked at me.
“Really. I’m very good with a knife.”
“Oh, I believe you,” he said, picking Misha up and walking toward the
front door. “Just don’t be scary anymore, all right?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, and if anyone tries to, I will be very
displeased.”
He reached the door and opened it, then stepped inside and gave me a
look before closing it behind him.
I ran to catch him and knocked on the door until he opened it, looking
out at me through the narrow space that the chain lock allowed.
“That’s easy to just kick in, you know.”
He closed the door.
Laughing, I knocked again. Same scenario, he opened it just a crack, the
chain still on.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know, scary person, but you’re freaking us both out.”
Misha was not concerned, as evidenced by his happy yips as he pawed
the air.
“And no,” Gale added, “we’re not getting you a knife.”
“I’ll just use yours.”
“So scary,” he whispered to Misha as he closed the door slowly again.
 When he looked at me out the window, my heart skipped a beat. There
was no doubt about it, I was crazy about Gale Malloy. And so was my dog.

After dinner that night, Gale ran to his place to get clothes to sleep in,
and Ada said she was retiring early.
“We’ll just be out here, watching TV, then,” I told her. “The great
mahjong rematch will wait for another night.”
“There will be no rematch,” she informed me.
“Yes, there will be, because you cheat,” I informed her right back.
“You can’t cheat at mahjong, and besides, I want you to go to Gale’s.”
“What? No. You can’t be alone. You’ll be scared.”
“I will not be scared even a bit. I wasn’t scared that night, and I’m
certainly not scared now,” she said emphatically. “I was far more terrified
the night I found the alligator sleeping under my bed.”
I could give her that.
“You haven’t lived until you look into the darkness, upside down, and
see eyes staring back at you.”
Jesus.
“But again, I’m not scared, and you need to go stay with Gale before he
combusts into a flaming ball of desire.”
First, I was horrified. Then I was simply confused. “A flaming ball of
what?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Maks! Open your eyes. The man wants you
terribly. Every time he looks at you, there’s so much naked yearning there
that I start to get hot flashes again like when I was going through
menopause. How are you missing that?”
“I—gross.”
She whacked me in the chest. “Oh, don’t be such a prude. Just take the
man to bed already and let nature take its course.”
“This is the most unsexy conversation I’ve ever had in my life.”
Her glare should have killed me right there. “Get out of here now. Take
your clothes, take whatever else you need—my brother had exotic oils he
brought back from Borneo, but that was ages ago—and go have some fun.”
“Oils from where?”
“And take Misha because he’ll cry if you leave him, and I won’t be here
all night trying to console him. Plus, Gale will think it odd if you show up
without him.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Get. Out,” she ordered and then wheeled around and exited the room
dramatically, leaving me stunned.

Gale, like me, had assumed that Ada would want us there with her the first
night home. He was surprised when I walked through the front door.
“What’s going on?”
“Ada threw me out and told me to come over here and have my wicked
way with you.”
His face was priceless. I had probably looked just as horrified. “What?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just get the dog settled. I need a shower.”
He waved a hand toward the bathroom. “Anything, just don’t ever say
wicked way to me again as long as you live.”
“It’s a deal,” I assured him, heading for the shower.

I was standing in the bathroom after a very long, very hot shower, staring
at myself in the mirror, wondering at the changes that had happened so
quickly, when I saw Gale in the mirror. He was looking at me, and I could
see what Ada meant. His eyes were utterly molten.
“Man, you always look so good in just a towel.”
“Always?” I teased him, even though watching him come near me in
only sweats and a T-shirt was making my mouth dry. “You’ve only seen me
like this once before.”
“And it’s burned into my brain,” he croaked out, reaching me and
putting his hands on my hips, tracing the top of the towel. “Tell me you’re
ready and that I can have you.”
“I was always ready,” I rasped, looking at him, loving the way he took
firm hold of my ass before he kissed the side of my neck.
“Maybe your body, but not your heart. Not quite.”
“I am now,” I promised.
“That’s very good,” he whispered, stepping back, grabbing my hand and
tugging me after him out of the bathroom, through the open door, to the
king-size bed.
 Yanking the covers down, he then tugged off the towel and shoved me
down onto the bed. As he stripped out of his clothes, I got to see all the
roping muscle, the long, beautiful lines of him, the miles of gorgeous
golden skin.
“Gale,” I gasped as he dropped to his knees between my open legs and
took my already hard cock down the back of his throat in one long,
seamless swallow.
I yelled his name the second time.
He pulled off, and I saw the wicked smile before he licked at the leaking
precum, taking my shaft in his hand, stroking me from balls to head before
taking me in again, the suction and rhythm so good. That fast, I knew I was
going to come.
It had been so long. Even before my life ended in Chicago, it had been
months between lovers. Already I had soured on the quick, dirty fucks in
bathrooms and the backs of cars, the secret blowjobs behind buildings. I
wanted a person, my person, and that, the need for more, for intimacy,
connection…love…was the only thing that would work.
And now here was Gale, who had looked past the guy I’d been to the
man I could be. He saw me like few others did besides my mother, brother,
my cousins, and Sava. Five people in the world before him and Ada and the
other people in town now, my community who wanted me there. I would be
trusted and loved, and I wanted all that. More than anything, I wanted Gale.
“No,” I cried out when he pulled off.
“Just do as you’re told,” he growled, rolling me over on the bed,
smacking my ass, ordering me to my hands and knees.
I moved quickly as he darted to the nightstand and returned with lube.
“I’m ready, just fuck me.”
He scoffed. “Love the enthusiasm, but I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”
I had no idea what that meant, but a moment later his hands were on my
ass cheeks, spreading me open before he licked over my hole.
My breath caught, and it was loud.
I heard his filthy chuckle before his tongue speared inside me, and he
reached under my hip to stroke my now dripping cock.
“I want to be buried to my balls in your perfect ass,” he rumbled, and I
heard the snap of the lube before two slick fingers pressed inside me. “Tell
me I can.”
“Yes. Please. Now,” I pleaded with him.
 I always thought it would hurt, and it stung for a moment as he stretched
me, but his mouth was there, and his tongue, and his fingers, three now,
pushing in deep and then easing back, making circles, spreading apart, then
spearing deep.
It felt incredible. He was going so slow, taking his time, and then his
fingers were gone, only his tongue remaining while he licked and laved,
finally sucking on my skin. I was holding my breath, wanting to ride the
wave of shivering chills and sparks of electricity dancing over my skin,
rolling through me from the inside out.
When his fingers returned, I gasped with the pressure of four, and then
in moments of the in and out, back and forth, I was whimpering under him.
No one but him would I have ever trusted to see me like that, frowning in
desperate need, begging him for more.
“You’re pushing back on my fingers so hard,” he whispered, leaning
over me, biting my shoulder, mouthing my nape before kissing and licking
back down my spine.
“Gale,” I demanded, loudly this time, and then the head of his cock was
there, at my entrance, so big, so wide, before he pushed into my body.
The stretch around his long, hard length made me shiver. The sensation
was intense, sharp, not quite pain but close. The counterpoint was his hand
on my flagging cock, the friction so perfect, the slide and the catch at the
same time, working my flesh, pleasure overwhelming the ache as my
muscles relaxed and he slid home, to my core, buried to the hilt.
He didn’t move, letting me get used to him, and then he eased back,
only slightly, before thrusting hard.
His name came out of me then, loud and guttural.
“Oh, he likes that,” he whispered in my ear, snapping his hips, driving
that much deeper before again withdrawing a fraction.
“I can…oh please, Gale, I fuckin’ can.”
“You can what?” he asked me, hand in my hair, tipping my head so my
back bowed and my ass lifted. His hand on my hip was holding me tight
and hard, making sure I couldn’t move. I was totally under his power, and
he was as turned on as I was.
“I can take it, everything you can give. Just have me.”
He took me at my word.
Starting slow, he shoved inside me, once and then again, gathering
speed until he was pounding my ass, driving deeper and faster, riding me
hard, each thrust better than the last. When he let go of my hair, I went
facedown onto the bed, ass still in the air as he pistoned inside me.
His yell was a surprise, and when he pulled out, it almost hurt with how
tight my muscles were clenching around him. I felt empty until he rolled me
to my back, shoved a pillow under my hips, and lifted my legs up over his
shoulders. When he slid back inside me, I arched up off the bed.
“I knew it would be like this, knew you would feel like home, like
you’re made for me,” he murmured as I slipped my hands under the
headboard to brace myself for another pounding.
Gripping the top of the headboard, he drove deep, setting a fierce
rhythm, rutting inside me, sweat dripping off him as he took his pleasure, an
endless loop of thrust and retreat.
I had no idea I could come only with him being inside me, but looking
at him, watching the muscles in his arms and shoulders cord, seeing his
head fall back, his lips part as he panted, his wet hair stick to his forehead, I
was lost. Giving and receiving pleasure at the same time was something I’d
never experienced before. I was utterly gone.
I felt the quickening of my orgasm swimming up my spine, felt my balls
tighten, my muscles squeezing all around him like a vise, and then a sound
I’d never made in my life tore out of my chest and I came, spurting over his
abdomen.
“Oh fuck yes,” he snarled, sounding almost angry as he froze above me,
and wet warmth filled my channel.
No one had ever been inside me. I’d never had cum leaking out of my
ass, and certainly there had never been a man collapsing on top of me,
burying his face in my neck, his stubble rubbing over mine. In seconds, his
mouth was open on the side of my neck as he kissed and sucked, leaving a
mark there before he lifted just enough to look down at my face.
“Oh, Maks, I’m not gonna say anything stupid because sex makes you
stupid, and great sex makes you an idiot, but please, please, you can’t ever
leave me. We fit perfectly, like I knew we would.” He swallowed hard.
“Say yes, that you’re gonna be mine. Say it now.”
“Lot of demands so soon after sex when you’re still buried in my ass.”
“Yeah, no, not sorry. I’m staying right here. Not moving. You feel so
good.”
There was so much hope and happiness and possessiveness in his gaze,
I had to look away, otherwise I would say something ridiculous.
 “We’re gonna hyphenate your name to Gorev-Malloy. Nobody’s gonna
think twice about you being anybody else with a name like that.”
“Why am I hyphenating?” I asked, always without fail getting pulled
into nonsensical conversations with him where we talked about impossible
plans and future scenarios that I loved.
“You’re gonna be mine. Why’re you playing at this?”
“Yours, you say?”
“Yes,” he groused, easing slowly, tenderly from my body and then
instantly rolling me onto my side so he could spoon me. “All mine.”
“These sheets will never recover,” I assured him. “And your cum is
leaking out of me.”
“I know,” he said, sliding his hand down my hip and then over my ass,
slipping his middle finger inside me.
“Oh God,” I moaned, squirming from being overly sensitized and with
how good it felt.
“You’re incredible,” he said, and moved fast, sliding down my side until
his mouth was pressing between my ass cheeks, his tongue lapping over my
used hole. “You taste amazing.”
“That’s—oh,” I gasped. “It’s you you’re tasting,” I reminded him.
“Oh, well, my cum is good out of your ass.”
I sighed deeply. “No one who ever looks at you would think you’re like
this in bed.”
“Of course not,” he said, cackling as he moved back up my body until
his dick caught on my ass, and then he pressed back inside, hardening with
every passing second. “Only you know because you’re the only one in bed
with me.”
“I can’t go again. I don’t have your—”
“Oh no?” His breath on my ear, the gravelly, rough sound of his voice,
rolled right through me. When he stroked my cock, I jolted against him, and
my cock thickened in his hand. “I think you’ve never been in bed with the
right man,” he said, pressing his cum to my shoulder along with his kisses.
“Because you want me bad.”
The second time there were only drops that leaked from the end of my
cock, and he came inside me again and made a mess of both of us. I
couldn’t stop smiling.
“I’ve never been in bed with anyone but you without a condom,” he
confessed after a few moments of silence. “Even Dean. It just never felt
right.”
“But it felt right with me?”
“It never even crossed my mind with you. There could be nothing
between us.”
“Well, I’ve never been in bed with anyone, ever,” I told him. “That
being said, I’ve never fucked without a condom. I’m not stupid.”
“I know that,” he said, grinning at me. “You’re one of the smartest
people I know, so yeah, we’re good.”
“Of course we are,” I agreed, letting him roll me sideways into his arms
so he could do as he wanted and tuck me tight to his heart.
“And I really like the sound of Gorev-Malloy. I mean, you sound so
international.”
I rolled my eyes as he raked his fingers through my hair.
We both heard it then, the pitiful howl from the other side of the door.
“No,” he said.
“Misha Gorev-Malloy,” I whispered, kissing under his jaw.
“Little shit,” he muttered as I sat up. I pulled the covers up so the mess
we made was covered, and he rolled out of bed, crossed the room, and
opened the door a crack.
Misha darted in, ran around the bed, realized there was no way up, and
then whined until Gale picked him up and put him on the end. He tumbled
over to me, received pets and kisses, and then once Gale returned to bed
and I snuggled into his shoulder, Misha curled up into a ball at my nape.
“You can’t take back Misha Gorev-Malloy,” he made clear, his hand in
my hair before he kissed my forehead. “That’s a done deal.”
“Yes, baby,” I agreed, hugging him tight.
“Oh, I really do like the baby,” he sighed.

He bought Misha a ramp. The following night, after we said our good-
nights to Ada after dinner and returned to his house, now mine as well,
there was a ramp on my side of the bed so Misha could get up and down
whenever he wanted.
“You got that for him?”
“Of course I got that for him,” he grumbled. “I refuse to have him ruin
my postcoital cuddle with you with his whining.”
“Well, you’re still going to have to get up and open the door.”
 “Unless I teach him to stay off the bed during sexy times.”
I groaned loudly.
“What else am I supposed to call it?”
I had no idea.

That Saturday, Viola Berry came to see me at the farmer’s market where
Gale and I went to watch Ada sell her pottery that we had set up for her.
Viola thanked me lavishly, and we had a nice visit with her daughter,
Harper, and the dogs. I’d been so busy; I hadn’t seen her since the first day
at the vet’s office. Apparently, Bruce was still locked up since he couldn’t
make bail—his family had washed their hands of him—so he hadn’t been
able to bother his soon-to-be ex-wife and his daughter. His cousins, Viola
told me, had come by to apologize for the misunderstanding. Bruce hadn’t
been honest with anyone. They had spent a week in jail each and would be
serving some serious community service time. I was glad to hear it. Gale
reiterated to Viola that if she had any problems, he should be her first call.
“Or Maks,” Harper chimed in, beaming up at me. “He saved us and our
doggies, so he’ll protect us.”
Gale shot me a look.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re always the hero.”
I nodded. “That’s how I roll.”
“Oh,” Ada said, shaking her head and scrunching up her nose. “Don’t
ever say that again. That’s just so not you.”
Gale thought that was hysterical.
Viola explained that she and Harper had moved into their new house. It
was small, but safe and wonderful, close to the elementary school.
Hearing that, Ada insisted that Viola take eight place settings of dinner,
salad, and dessert plates, along with bowls and mugs. “You must be able to
entertain in your new home.”
Viola cried, and Harper hugged Ada, then sat down and talked to Misha.
It was a very good visit.
The Snyders were next and Lauren introduced me to first her
Chihuahua/Yorkshire terrier mix, Bedelia—I glanced at Mrs. Snyder and
she shrugged like she didn’t know why the name either—and then to Thor.
“You know, like the Avengers.”
 I nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
Thor was impressive. He was a Belgian Malinois and the way he was
watching that little girl, I couldn’t imagine anyone she didn’t like was
getting anywhere near her. He was also enjoying all her pets and hugs and
the pretzels they were both eating.
I got a hug from Mrs. Snyder, a handshake from Mr. Snyder, and we set
a date for the following Saturday for Lauren to come see the sheep.
“Can I bring my dogs?”
“As long as you promise not to let Bedelia chase the cats or the sheep.”
“You’re not worried about Thor?”
“No,” I said quickly, thinking that Mr. Kramer’s training had included
Thor not being the type to chase anything but bad guys. “Just Bedelia.”
Lauren crossed her heart that her baby would be good.
Dr. Coleman came by, with his husband, Troy, and introduced me. He
was sorry he hadn’t called.
“I would have,” he said, glancing at Gale, “but I was informed that you
were quite busy being Ada’s caretaker.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, as Gale took gentle hold of the back of my neck.
“But I would love the four of us to get dinner sometime.”
“I would love that,” Troy said, beaming at me.
Gale only grunted.
Ada did a thriving business, selling every last piece of pottery, much to
her surprise and delight. Her banker, Mr. Raleigh—Allen—was thrilled for
her, even more so when she hugged him. Clearly, the man was a bit smitten.
I invited him for dinner, and he quickly accepted. Ada, Gale, and I had
dinner together every night at our house, and one more was always
welcome.

I had so many people coming and going from the property that I had to
buy one of those stupid organizers with all the tabs. Keeping it all straight
on my phone, where I had to open the calendar to see everything, didn’t
work for me. Just like I kept my records that I turned over to the Feds,
journals worked best for me, but to be on the safe side, I hired a CPA from a
big firm in Portland and a lawyer from a small outfit in Seaside.
A week later, when Gale got home from work, he was stunned to see
that the jungle that used to be Ada’s front yard had been taken down to dirt,
and new sod and plants were being put in. The fact that the porch needed to
be rebuilt was bad news, but the wrought-iron railings had held up. I was
pleased that at least some pieces of the original house were intact. It was
part of Ada’s history with her home and I wanted that for her. Libby had
lived there after all, and so to see the restoration process had to be part of
the healing. I was guessing that had Libby been around, Ada would have
been so much more vigilant about the upkeep of their home.
So many positive changes, it was hard to keep track of them all.
Genie came a month later, in July, invited by her aunt to move into the
second bedroom in the bungalow until the house was finished. Then, of
course, she’d have her own suite.
“I’m very excited about having so many rooms,” Genie told me.
She immediately took over the care of the barn cats and accepted the
two alpacas Peter Kay gifted to Ada. He said that when he was watching the
girls for the couple of days he had them, that those two particular alpacas
enjoyed being with the sheep. So Betty and Denise joined the others in
grazing on the grass in the now fenced paddock. It was nice to see things
coming together.
Genie became the first employee of Libby’s House, which was the
official name of the sanctuary, and she hired a designer to begin building
the website. She got to sit in when Dillon Harrison, an architect and builder
out of Cheyenne, Wyoming, got on Skype with us and showed us his plans
for the house. It was fun to watch the house transform in the video he
narrated. He then suggested we contact Chun & Patel out of Butte,
Montana, to do all the interior design of the house. They had just appeared
in Architectural Digest and had done a fabulous job updating a Victorian in
San Francisco and a ranch in Wyoming. I called them the following day,
thinking there was no way they would be interested in coming to a small
town on the Oregon coast. They arrived two days later, both women thrilled
to be meeting the heiress Ada Farley, and excited to hear all her stories
about Studio 54.
In September, the foundation of the house was finally cleared by the
building inspector. I was about to call the interior designers as I was
crossing from Ada’s home to mine and Gale’s, when I noticed him standing
by the front gate.
“Hey,” I called over to him.
 It had rained that morning, and the ground was still wet and the air held
the first hint of fall. I smiled at him, but as I got closer, I noticed he looked
strange. His now blond mane—he grew it out for fall and winter—was
whipping around in the breeze and kept falling into his beautiful eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
He straightened up, staring at me. “I just watched a report on the
national news about Grigory Lenkov, a former head of one of the Russian
crime families in Chicago, who was brought down when his own son turned
informant.”
I nodded.
“That’s you.”
“That’s me. Don’t tell Alvarez I told you.”
“Jesus, Maks,” he moaned. “Everything they said you went through…
Your father’s a fuckin’ sadist!”
“He is. Yes,” I agreed.
“You’re so calm about it.”
“No other way to be,” I assured him.
“The reporter said there were no current pictures of you, so people can
guess what you look like, but it’s not like with your brother, Pasha, or your
stepsister, Galina, whom anyone can find on the internet.”
“I took care of the side of the business that you don’t take pictures of at
all.”
“You don’t look like your father or your brother, but your mother’s
father—they showed lots of family pictures—you resemble him a bit. Your
mother too. She had the same black eyes and hair as you.”
“Yeah.”
“She died in a car bomb meant for your father.”
“That’s true too. Why the report on him?”
“He’s having health concerns, so they moved up his sentencing.”
“I see.”
“You haven’t told me everything about what happened, but I’ve
cataloged every scar on your body, and I plan to learn the story about each
one. I’m especially interested in that bullet wound near your heart.”
“Well, that was my best friend. You only hurt the ones you love.”
“No. I love you, and I would never hurt you!” he yelled, overcome with
emotion that I could hear in his voice and see in his face.
“I know that,” I soothed him.
 He gripped the gate hard. “You could have died. I mean, at any time,
you could have been gone, just dead, bleeding out in some alley, and I
would have never… You wouldn’t be mine. Misha wouldn’t be mine. I
just… That’s the absolute worst thing I can think of.”
“Thank you,” I said from my heart.
“In some alternate universe, Maks, you’re not with me. My life is
different.”
“Maybe—and this is just a suggestion,” I said, reaching him, lifting my
hand to his chest, putting it over his heart, “perhaps the best thing to do is
concentrate on this reality.”
He took a deep breath and blew it out as I turned and yelled for my dog.
“What the hell,” Gale whispered, watching Misha finally come around
the side of the barn. He was wearing his anti-get-murdered vest and looked
like a neon-yellow porcupine. “Why is he wearing that?”
“Genie claims to have seen a hawk,” I answered drolly.
“Oh, she did not,” he grumbled. “She just thinks it’s funny to put him in
that thing. I’m gonna yell at her at dinner.”
Gale didn’t yell at anyone except me, and only when he was utterly
terrified. Like he did a week ago when I was hanging off the new roof of
Ada’s house. Apparently the railing for the widow’s walk was not actually
ready to be used yet and was only for show. Someone should have told me
that before I leaned on it. The good news was, I had excellent balance. The
bad news was, Gale nearly had a heart attack watching me dangle for a
couple of minutes before I pulled myself up.
“Can I say something else?” he asked as he placed his hand over mine
on his heart.
“Of course.”
“I’m amazed at the man you turned out to be, and I’m guessing I can
thank your mother for that.”
“You can.”
“I love that you carry her with you every day in your locket, and I really
like that it hangs in my face every time you ride me in bed.”
I shook my head at him. “You’re a sick man.”
He leaned in and kissed me.
Misha whimpered.
“Your dog is a cock block,” he complained, easing back, opening the
gate, and leaning over to pick up Misha. “Can you even pee in this?” he
asked our dog before turning for the porch. “Let’s get this thing off you.”
I took a breath. “I love you.”
He stopped moving and looked at me over his shoulder. “I’m sorry,
what?”
I growled.
“No. Really. Say it again.”
“I love you,” I repeated curtly.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Very much,” I replied, crossing my arms.
“I’ve said it to you a lot.”
And he had. Nearly every day. But I hadn’t been ready and I needed to
be. Now I was. “I’m aware.”
“And now you’re saying it back.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then.” His grin was huge and smug, and I bit the inside of my
cheek so there would be no smiling back. “I love you, Maks.”
I was being tested, but I didn’t care. “I love you too.”
“That’s fun,” he apprised me, then spun around and headed to the porch,
where he put Misha in his lap and started to try and figure out how to get
the vest off. “Why is there a sleeve and straps? This is like being locked
into an inside-out iron maiden if it was colored with a yellow highlighter.”
“I will hyphenate my name,” I told him after a few minutes.
“I knew you’d come around,” he stated, looking up at me for a moment
and then back to Misha. “I was sure of it.”
“Because you’re always sure of me, aren’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
It was an excellent question. I was after all, a man to be trusted. He’d
taught me that about myself, as he counted on me to be there for him. To
take care of him just as he took care of me. It was a solid thing, he and I.
Unbreakable. And we both knew it.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “Hope you’re ready.”
There was no doubt.
 A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Thank you so much for reading Wayward, my reformed gangster romance.

Sometimes the good guy can look bad, but deep down, that heart of gold
will always shine through. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving
a review on Amazon, it’s so helpful for the book’s visibility.
Another book with a mobster getting a chance at love and redemption is
A Day Makes the first in my Vault series.
Be sure to follow me on Amazon to stay up to date on new releases and
don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter here.
Please pop by my website or visit me on social media to stay in touch. I
have some really cute pics of my furry ninja on Instagram. And if you like
to listen to your books as well, you can find me on Audible as well.
I hope to see you soon!
ALSO BY MARY CALMES

By Mary Calmes

BREAKING TRADITION
Muscle and Bone
Mist and Marrow

HOUSE OF MAEDOC
His Consort
His Prince

L’ANGE
Old Loyalty, New Love
Fighting Instinct
Chosen Pride
Winter’s Knight

MARSHALS
All Kinds of Tied Down
Fit To Be Tied
Tied Up in Knots
Twisted and Tied
Balanced and Tied

TIMING
Timing
After The Sunset
When The Dust Settles

TORUS INTERCESSION
 No Quick Fix
In A Fix
Fix It Up
The Fix Is In
The Bix Fix

THE VAULT
A Day Makes
Late In The Day

WARDERS
His Hearth (Warders #1)
Tooth & Nail (Warders #2)
Heart In Hand (Warders #3)
Sinnerman (Warders #4)
Nexus (Warders #5)
Cherish Your Name (Warders #6)
Trick Of Light (Warders #7)

Again
Any Closer
Just George
Lay It Down
More Than Life
Scratch The Surface
Stand In Place
Steamroller
Still

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Acrobat
Frog
The Guardian
Heart of the Race
Ice Around the Edges
 Judgment
Just Desserts
Kairos
Mine
Romanus * Chevalier
The Servant
What Can Be
Where You Lead
You Never Know

CHANGE OF HEART
Change of Heart
Trusted Bond
Honored Vow
Crucible of Fate
Forging the Future

MANGROVE STORIES
Blue Days
Quiet Nights
Sultry Sunset
Easy Evenings
Sleeping ‘til Sunrise

A MATTER OF TIME
A Matter of Time Vol.1
A Matter of Time Vol. 2
Bulletproof
But For You
Parting Shot
Piece of Cake
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Calmes believes in romance, happily ever afters, and the faith it takes for her characters to get
there. She bleeds coffee, thinks chocolate should be its own food group, and currently lives in
Kentucky with a six-pound furry ninja that protects her from baby birds, spiders and the neighbor’s
dogs. To stay up to date on her ponderings and pandemonium (as well as the adventures of the ninja)
follow her on Twitter Facebook, Instagram and subscribe to her newsletter.