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“Is that before hell freezes over or after?”
“Definitely after.”
“Good to have a timeline.”
His mouth twitches, and I know it would be a blazing smile if he had a different life.
We stop in front of a gleaming Mustang, and I watch his eyes crawl over the car lovingly. “Your chariot is impressive.”
“Wait till you feel her horsepower.” He opens the passenger door. “It’s something you won’t soon forget.”
I slide into the soft leather seat and imagine anyone in his company would say the same thing about him.
Yuri Novikov is all gas and no brakes.
CHAPTER FIVE
Yuri
I stand inside a jewel box and take in the details. Lina’s apartment is modest in size but rich in design. The walls are coated in navy blue paint thick as cream, and the dark wood floors are covered in ancient Aubusson rugs. The furniture is well made, and the books crowding the shelves suggest that someone loves Russian poetry and art.
There was money at one time. That much is clear.
But from where? Lina works at a drycleaners for what I’m reasonably confident is peanuts. Her hands are bare of jewelry save a small signet ring on her pinkie. Questions ping around my brain endlessly.
Things and people usually fit so easily in boxes. This woman does not, and since I’m a man who can’t leave an unsolved puzzle alone, I need to begin collecting the pieces.
“These are ready.”
Looking up, I see her holding a bag from the local market. “What’s that?”
“Baby iguanas.” She wiggles the bag. “It’s your shirts, Yuri.”
Why does my name on her lips fill me with so much satisfaction? “Why are they here, Lina?” She wiggles the bag again and I take it. “I thought you did them during your workday.”
“There isn’t time, usually.” Stepping back, she twists her hands together uncomfortably. “I work on them here while I watch my shows.” She turns on her heel and walks into the kitchen. “Let me get you something to drink.”
Wiping my neck, I realize the money I’ve been giving her is not nearly enough. I lift a shirt out of the bag and study my initials entwined with a knife. This had to have taken her hours. Of her own time.
Fuck.
I should have realized. Setting the bag down, I pull out my money clip and peel off a dozen bills. It’s not nearly enough, but it will have to do for now.”
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I accept a glass of lemonade and hold out the folded money. Shaking her head, she steps back. “It’s for the shirts.”
“That’s too much.” Her mouth forms a flat line. “I can’t accept it.”
“You don’t even know how much there is.”
“It’s a wad of cash.”
“So?”
“Just give me the twenty like you usually do.”
I set down the lemonade glass and place the money in her hand. “Have you opened any of the envelopes I’ve given you?” Her eyes fall to the ground, and I know the answer.
