Page 68 of The Lies Between Lovers

“Why?”

Asleep, the dog didn’t even look like he would hurt a fly. His ear twitched when she said his name, but otherwise, he didn’t stir from where he slept. Other than the cool September breeze easing the heat of the sun rustling along his large body, even his tail didn’t flick. Stretched out, he covered a good four feet or more in length across the edge of the steps, and his wavy coat of black hair shined from the bright sunlight beating down on him.

“And definitely don’t pet him,” Igor added when Vera stepped around the dog to head down the stairs. “Not unless he makes you, anyway.”

“What?”

The dog might have appeared innocuous and unconcerned, but the second Vera took a step, she heard the growing rumble coming from the animal. He didn’t even open his eyes to growl, and other than the lift of his furry lip on the right side of his snout, she wouldn’t even be sure the noise had come from him.

“I said don’t pet him,” Igor repeated as Vera picked up the pace coming down the steps.

She still kept one eye on the moody dog even when she reached the bottom. By then, Igor had grabbed hold of her luggage—the rolling and matching carry-on duffel—and had started for the running SUV parked off to the side of the towering birch trees in the middle of the circular driveway.

Igor pulled on the latch to open the rear door of the SUV, and as he packed her two pieces of luggage in, he told her, “You get used to him after a while—or you learn to stop meeting his eyes, yes?”

“He can’t be that bad.”

Although, Marrow did growl just because she passed him on the stairs. That probably wasn’t a point in the pup’s favor in regard to his aggression, but she wasn’t exactly a dog person, either, so it wasn’t like she’d know.

Igor gave her a pensive stare. “Don’t pet him, okay? Don’t even try.”

At that, he lifted one hand while he used his other to slam the rear door shut. She had a clear view of the scarring that looked like someone had done a piss poor job of keeping the stitches straight. That, or the injury hadn’t exactly allowed a clean stitch job.

“It was as bad as it looks,” Igor filled when. “That’s one of a few. He’s taken a chunk out of every corner of me at one point or another. Sometimes because all I did was look at him.”

Even though she hadn’t asked.

Huh.

Good to know.

“He’ll seem nice,” the man added, “but then he switches.”

The fast snap of his fingers made her jump. If Igor noticed the nervousness she felt, the man didn’t point it out. It wasn’t necessarily the dog or him that caused her extra anxiety, but rather, the man she had left behind in the house.

“Kind of like Vaslav, then?”

Igor failed to suppress the tilt of his lips upward that suggested he thought her comment was funny, but it quickly faded away when he replied, “You said it, not me.”

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked.

Igor, who had been checking the shiny Rolex on his wrist, glanced up with a knot between his brows. “Who—Marrow? Why wouldn’t he be? I don’t know how Mira gets anything done when he’s in the house, but she does. I’m convinced she bribes him with something he likes to behave.”

Vera took another peek at the sleeping dog. As interesting as the animal might be, that wasn’t what she’d been talking about. “No, I meant Vas.”

At the clarification, Igor took his chance to glance back at the looming house that suddenly seemed devoid of life given the stillness of the property. The gray brick, some of it swallowed in growing green vines, seemed cold without any particular reason.

Or maybe she knew exactly the reason.

“I’ve learned over time that it’s easier not to worry about Vaslav,” Igor said, “because any reason you have to worry will never match his reasons for doing whatever he wants and plans to do. And if you do worry—”

“He’s sick, isn’t he?”

Igor lifted one eyebrow high going right ahead with finishing his initial advice. “If you do worry, keep it to yourself. It’s less heartache, or so I hear.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The man shrugged. “You don’t pay me to.”