Exposed (37 page)

“What in the hell are you doing!” June faced the crowd and stared at people in turn.

In response, Ivan watched as some of the crowd looked down, looked away from the accusation in June’s voice. She seemed to have shocked at least a few of them to their senses.

“You screech about boycotting their produce, but Mrs. Sharpe,” June said, singling out Evie’s mother. “You do know your cook has been back to my father’s store twice to buy Sokolov vegetables, right?”

Mrs. Sharpe shared a look with her husband and suddenly became interested in her hands.

“And Mr. Erikson,” she said, rounding on Bo. “Your wife has been raving to everyone she knows about those flowers. Whose do you think they were?”

Bo kept his shoulders pulled straight and stared at June. “You can bet she won’t be buying from the general store no more then.”

Clayton took over. “Are you really going to believe Butch Murphy over Ivan? Over us?”

The mob shuffled back and forth on their feet. Butch had melted back into the night. One girl stepped forward and joined Clayton. It was Betty’s little sister.

Her voice was small when she spoke, but everyone heard her. “We should be ashamed of ourselves, using Betty’s memory like this, for a witch hunt. I don’t believe for one moment that Ivan hurt my sister.”

That made even more people step back, turn away. The mob was starting to disperse. Officer Harris finally broke through the crowd. At the very back, Ivan spied Officer Barton not doing a thing to help.

Matt Harris worked at the cuffs at Ivan’s back, then the cuffs sprang free. Ivan’s wrists smarted, and he rubbed gently at his tender skin.

But Bo still looked murderous. “I can’t believe you’re all swayed so easy!” He rounded on June, his mouth stretched in a leer.

“You’re really going to throw your lot in with someone like that,” he said, shoving Ivan.

Ivan glared at Bo and stood firm. So did June beside him.

“I’d throw ‘my lot’ in with him a hundred times over. Ivan is one of the best men I know.”

“You’re hurting your future, girl,” Bo warned. “People like me won’t be quick to forget you’re choosing a Commie over your own.”

June held tight to Ivan and looked straight at Bo. But she let her voice carry loudly over the crowd still lingering at the edges. “Then let them know. I love this man, and there’s no one else I’d want to be with.”

The whispers started, but there was the harmless kind. The kind that didn’t think toward death. Only gossip.

Ivan and his friends faced the last few people refusing to move on. Edith and Mary glared, Officer Barton standing beside them.

“There’s still the matter of the bank robbery,” Officer Barton said. “In case you forgot that in your little show.”

Clayton turned a cold gaze on Edith. “Did I not tell you to wait until the morning? What about that did you not understand as a direct order?”

Edith’s eyes bugged and her mouth hung open, but then she snapped it closed. “He did it,” she said, a note of pleading in her voice. “I don’t know how, but he did.”

Clayton turned his back on Edith and addressed Officer Harris. “Check the deposit box. As I told my employee earlier, this was all a misunderstanding that I was working to clear up without wasting anyone’s time.” 

Edith looked down, cowed.

“Let’s go check,” June offered. “We’ll put everyone’s mind at ease.”

With the officers flanking them, they walked toward the bank.

Ivan tried to keep his head high, even with the two uniformed officers at his side. Behind him, he could hear June, Clayton, and Cora walking with them, showing their support. That helped.

Clayton fumbled with the key to the bank, but pushed the door open and ushered the group inside. Their shoes clipped against the tiles, echoed against the steel vault door and up to the punched tin ceiling. Clayton flipped on a couple teller lamps and motioned for the group to follow him to the vault. 

His master key plus the second key clicked into the giant lock, and the round handle rasped—metal on metal—as it turned round, round. The door groaned and creaked, but Clayton swung it outward. 

The air inside the vault was perfectly still and cool. Yet Ivan’s hairline prickled with sweat. It was all there. It had to all be there and accounted for, right? 

Clayton inserted his security key into the deposit box then stood back for Mary to do the same with her key. Her blue-veined, gnarled hands were slow and shaky with the key, but the deposit box opened with a click.

Edith gasped.

Stacks of money slid from the dark innards. White diamonds that tinkled where they landed in a heap onto the metal table; chunks of raw gold that glimmered. Edith gasped again and rounded on Ivan.

“But,” she stammered. She shared an agitated glance with Mary then turned her severe glare on Ivan. “What’d you do? How’d you do it?”

Ivan pulled a shaky breath in through his nose and stared down at Edith, silent. He didn’t trust himself to speak without yelling, without his anger exploding from him.

“Ma’am,” Officer Harris said. “Did you ever actually see the empty box?”

Edith was losing herself, her eyes feral. “He did it! I know he did it!”

“Edith,” Clayton said, impatience lacing his words. “That’s enough. I think you owe Mr. Sokolov here an apology. Ms. Powell as well.”

The cops shared a look then apologized to Clayton for taking up his time. They failed to apologize to Ivan, but relief flooded through him, washed away the fear and anger so much he found he didn’t care. 

The officers turned to go, but Clayton stopped them. He held a hand out for the necklace still in Officer Barton’s possession and closed his fist around the pouch when Barton handed it over with a scowl.

Clayton watched the cops leave before turning back to Edith, who paced like a caged animal.

“Your vault key, Ms. Applebaum,” Clayton said.

Edith looked close to collapse, but she pulled the chain over her head, snagging the edge of her small eyeglasses on the way so they sat askew on her hawkish nose. 

June stopped her. “Wait,” she said. “This was a misunderstanding, Clay. I’m sure with a bit of reflection, Ms. Applebaum will realize.”

Edith swiped at her red nose and nodded quickly. “Thank you, June. I think … I think I will realize my mistake.”

“And apologize to Ivan,” Cora added. “For that scene outside.”

Without meeting Ivan’s eyes, Edith mumbled an apology then nearly ran off into the night, Mary Stewart shuffling after her. June and Cora followed them out to lock the bank door.

Clayton tucked his vault key into his pocket, then turned to face Ivan. He peeked inside the velvet pouch then held it out to Ivan.

“I carried a necklace around with me once too, trying to find the moment to give it.” Clayton handed the necklace over. “I believe you have someone to give this to.”

A shaky breath laughed out of Ivan. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, I …,” he walked out the vault door on unsteady feet, then turned back to Clayton. “Thanks,” he said. “I owe you.”

Clayton shrugged and locked the vault behind them. “It’s what you do for friends.” 

Their eyes met for a second, and each smiled—a bit shaky, but sincere. 

Then Ivan strode through the bank to where June waited for him. He wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s go home,” he said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

June

June turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. Ivan’s cabin was warm and cozy and perfect.

“You built this?”

Ivan couldn’t quite hide his satisfaction. He rubbed at his nose and busied himself moving half-finished cabinets out of the center of the great room.

“Ivan, this is amazing,” June breathed. She ran her hand along the rough stone fireplace mantel and along the smooth wooden bookcases.

Ivan’s hand was warm at her back. “I was hoping you’d like it.” He slowly led her through the cabin, pointing out the views from the large windows in the front room and how the aspen grove behind the kitchen shaded it from the summer sun. It was black with night outside the windows, but he painted the picture for her.

“And there’s enough room here for a breakfast nook with four chairs, and here, down the hall …,” Ivan led her on, the excitement in his voice making June bubble with happiness.

There was a bathroom, a small spare room at the back corner, and down a short hall … Ivan pushed open a solid door to a large bedroom. He turned then and held June’s hands between his own. He pulled her over the threshold and looked at her with question in his eyes. June smiled and wandered past him. 

Warm wood floors creaked underfoot and a large wardrobe and bed hewn of the same honey-colored pine took up most of the room. The walls were painted soft yellow, and the quilt on Ivan’s big bed echoed the color. 

“June?”

June turned to Ivan and smiled. Just smiled.

“I added a wardrobe to fit your clothes,” he said quietly. “And shelves in the main room for your books.”

“I know,” June whispered.

“We’ll want somewhere to come home to when we’re not traveling,” he said.

Home.

She was home.

June backed up until her knees hit the soft bed and she let herself fall backward, her arms stretched out above her. She felt the bed depress next to her and rolled her head to look at Ivan. He leaned on his elbow and looked down at her with so much warmth, so much love.

“
Dubroye utro
,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. 

June smiled back. She didn’t understand what he’d said, but she didn’t feel she needed to. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

Ivan laughed at that and took his time looking down the length of June. She drank in the feeling of Ivan’s eyes on her and dreamily ran her fingers up and down his side. 

Ivan twitched with pleasure and nuzzled into June’s neck. “You’re everything to me,” he whispered into her ear. His breath fluttered at the fine hairs at her neck and sent a ripple of goosebumps rolling across her skin.

“Speak to me in Russian again,” June said.

Ivan lifted his head up from where he’d started kissing her neck. “
Ya khochu zanyat’sya s toboy lyubov’yu
.”

June let the lovely language wash over her, eyes closed. Ivan moved to gently tug her shirt over her head, pull her pants down her legs. He tripped his fingers along her arms and brushed against her breasts. 

A new ache—a beautiful ache—bloomed within her. “What does that mean?”

She sat up to unbutton Ivan’s shirt and dragged it off of him, tugged open his pants. Ivan lightly pushed June’s shoulders so she lay down on her back and held himself above her, his weight on his arms. He dipped his head to her lips, her neck, the swell of her breast. “I’ll show you.”

June wrapped her arms around him, felt the bunch and length of the muscles in his shoulders and back as he held his weight on his arms. “Teach me Russian,” she breathed.

“
Ya lyublyu tebya
. It means ‘I love you.’” 

The words were clumsy in her mouth, but June took her time repeating them. “
Ya lyublyu tebya
.”

Ivan sighed in a laugh and planted a kiss on June’s shoulder. “Close.”

“I want to learn, Ivan,” she said. Then with a smile, “Ivanushka.”

Ivan collapsed at her side in a laugh and pulled a face. “Bah, don’t call me that. That’s what my family calls me.”

June shrugged and kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m your family now too.” She pulled back for a second then kissed him again. 

Ivan stared at her, his eyes warm and open and a half smile playing on his lips. “You are. And I’m yours.” Ivan pressed his lips together then rolled away, pulling something out of his pants pocket. He rolled back to June, a velvet bag in his hands.

“I’d meant to give this to you before, ah ….” He trailed off, and June wrapped her fingers around his where he was worrying the edges of the pouch. He looked up and met her gaze. “It’s, well ….” 

Instead of explaining, Ivan pulled the most gorgeous necklace June had ever seen from the velvet pouch. The emerald pendant was a deep, dark green, and there were tiny diamonds set around the stone. Ivan’s hands trembled just the tiniest bit as he held the necklace up for her, but his fingers were warm and sure when she lifted her head for him to clasp the jewelry around her neck. The emerald settled against her chest and instantly felt at home there.

“Oh, Ivan,” June breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

Ivan propped himself up on his elbow and touched the pendant, traced the tip of his finger along the route of the delicate gold chain. “It was my grandmother’s.”

June reached up and covered Ivan’s hand with her own. “I love it,” she said, looking deep into his eyes.

“I love you,” Ivan said. 

He lowered himself across June, fluttered kisses along the necklace, down to the pendant. One finger slid along the edge of June’s brassiere, slipped inside to tease her. He worked his hands behind her back to unhook the clasp, and the fabric fell away. June arched her back, and Ivan’s mouth covered the distance, licking her breasts, plucking them gently between his lips.

Ivan worked lower, kissing her ribs, her stomach. He ran the tip of his tongue along the slight dip down the middle of her stomach to the very edge of her panties. His breath was warm puffs against her bare skin, and June closed her eyes to the wonderful sensation. Then his fingers were tugging at her panties, dragging them down, down until all of her was bare to him. June watched through her eyelashes as Ivan beheld her, naked save for the pendant hanging around her neck.

He scooted lower, wrapping his arms around her back and rubbing them down until they held her hips. Ivan planted a hot kiss against each hip bone, then dipped down to kiss gently, slowly up the inside of her thighs. June went warm all over, yet goosebumps erupted across her skin. She breathed past her galloping heart and let her thighs drift open to Ivan.

His dark head paused at the triangle of soft fuzz between her thighs and looked up at June. She could only lick her lips, her body snapping with anticipation, with a desire that made her slick. Then Ivan’s breath was against her opening, tickling and tantalizing. A flick of his tongue against her sensitive bud sent June squirming and she opened her legs wider, inviting Ivan deeper.