Page 40 of The Beast of Moscow

Vera took another minute to respond, and he realized in that time that her personal experience in complex people was undoubtedly herself—maybe his pauses and long bouts of time spent unraveling the thoughts in his mind weren’t because of brain damage like the doctors proclaimed. She did it, too, and clearly ... the woman was nothing like him.

“You’re right,” she said, then. “I shouldn’t have assumed. You know, Igor said I should mind the dog—Marrow? But I didn’t even get the chance to see him.”

He hadn’t noticed until she mentioned the bull’s name, but he could see Igor wandering around the west wing of the house from where they stood.

“Yes, that’s a shame,” he returned simply.

Although, with a loud whistle, the dog would come running within minutes from where he had decided to den in the nearby woods. The Moscow Water Dog was never far from his master, although one wouldn’t know that considering how much time it seemed like the dog spent away from the house. Vaslav hadn’t even fed the pup in years because Marrow did well to hunt wild hares and other small game all on his own.

He’d never met a dog before that scoffed at kibble—Marrow proved himself as capable and as vicious as his master on all fronts, including finding the food he wanted to eat.

Besides, when the dog did spend more time near the house ... it only meant one thing.

“Is he trained?” Vera asked.

“As a service dog, actually.”

Of sorts.

Marrow had not been his idea, initially. Igor also hadn’t given him much of a choice three years earlier after he’d heard a doctor’s suggestion that a service dog might be beneficial to Vaslav. He’d brought the pup to the estate, mostly trained, at a year old. The woman that had accompanied the dog to work and train him with Vaslav didn’t last longer than a couple of months, and Marrow hadn’t worn his special vest since.

“Maybe you could meet him next time,” Vaslav offered.

He didn’t expect her to say yes or agree. In fact, he figured she wouldn’t even turn her head to meet his gaze again to acknowledge the offer.

It wasn’t the dinner he’d first considered, but it still gave him the chance to see her again, even if he knew that wasn’t the best idea. This woman had better things to do than spend her valuable time with a man like him.

And yet, she stared him straight in the face with another one of her blinding smiles when she replied quietly, “I’d like that, Vaslav.”

“Vas. You should call me Vas.”

Vera nodded. “I will. Thank you for asking me for tea today. It was a good way to end a bad day.”

He wanted to say the same, but the tendrils of pain snaking through his head had accompanied him since the morning. He’d known the bad migraine was on the horizon the second he walked outside to take his breakfast in the back, and Marrow was already waiting there to huff and puff his deep woofs along Vaslav’s legs while he tried to keep down his food and morning coffee. He’d not seen the dog in two weeks—since the beginnings of his last spread of scattered migraines that remained for days. He’d staved off the current one for as long as he could throughout the day with drink and a handful of pills, but that didn’t change what remained.

His pain.

“I’m happy to help,” he returned.

She reached his way with her soft palm, covering his scarred cheek before he’d even comprehended what had happened. No one touched him. Not without permission, and not ever so suddenly that he didn’t react first.

There was something about her touch, though.

He liked it.

Her thumb stroked over his beard before she quickly pulled her hand back, saying only, “Really, thank you. And I would like to do this again.”

“Then, we will.”

He’d make sure of it.

13.

“Mr. Pashkov?”

Mira’s knocking continued once more on the outside of the den’s thick doors, but he doubted that she would keep it up when she wasn’t getting a response. The woman knew better than that.

“Mr. Ivanov just returned from taking the young lady home,” Mira added, her voice muffled. “He thought you’d like to know she made it safe and sound.”