Find Me Maggie (2 page)

“Like I said, working dude parts.”

“I still don’t get why you think he’s missing. There’s nothing here that would lead to that possibility. No sign of foul play, no ransom note or phone call…nothing.”

I pulled my head out of the closet and closed the door. He was right; this was a complete bust. “You’re going to think this is nuts.”

“Coming from you? No doubt.”

“You just got docked an hour, buddy. No make-ups.”

“Aww, come on. You’ve got to admit that you live at the center of a vortex that seems to funnel nothing but trouble your way.”

He had a point. I seemed to be a magnet for messed-up tragedy lately. What with getting accused of murdering my ex-Arizona-state-senator boyfriend, nearly being murdered by an FBI-wanted transvestite, being the object of a stalker who’d killed my annoying coworker as some kind of tribute, and being on probation. But I was still docking him the hour for pointing all of that out to me.

“Are you done insulting me?” At his nod I continued. “It’s because of the twin thing. I can’t really explain it, but it’s like there’s this other part of me that’s not me.”

“Like a phantom limb?”

“Yeah, kinda exactly like that. Sometimes I can feel him, like that time when we were ten and he broke his arm. I got a really sharp pain in my arm in nearly the same place at the same time. Same thing happened when we walked in here. I got the feeling that Miguel is in over his head and that he didn’t just run, he’s hiding. He’s in some kind of trouble. I just don’t know what it is.”

“Okay, so who would know what he’s been into lately? Does he have any friends or associates? I can pull his sheet and see who he’s been in trouble with before.”

“Just like that? You believe me?”

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations. You got your hour back.”

We finished going through Miguel’s condo and even though I found all his hidey-holes—which really impressed Super Agent—we didn’t find anything that would give us a lead on Miguel’s whereabouts. We said our goodbyes to a teary-eyed Alice and headed to my apartment across town.

Once there, Super Agent immediately got on the phone and worked his FBI-Special-Agent magic to put Miguel on the FBI’s missing persons list and to pull up his rap sheet. He’d been right. Miguel’s arrest record was longer than anybody’s leg. I had no idea he’d been arrested so many times. Not all of the charges had stuck, which made Super Agent frown. It was kinda cute how he thought every arrest should lead to a conviction, or at the very least some jail time and parole.

Which was pretty ironic considering I was currently on probation without having served any jail time. We almost never discussed my reduced charge of disturbing a crime scene or the fact that I could be sitting in a cell for additional weapons charges. The gun had been registered…just not in my name. The police were such sticklers for that kind of thing. But thanks to my helping the FBI capture the murderer of a state senator
and
an internationally wanted fugitive I’d only gotten one year of probation.

“There is one name that’s popped up a few times in connection with Miguel’s,” Super Agent said.

He was drinking coffee, his feet propped up on my coffee table as if he was prepping for an all-nighter. The thought of what Super Agent could do to me in a whole night made me want to forget my wayward brother and get to the part where he reactivated my dormant lady parts.

“Sergei Levkova.”

That name sent a chill through me, blasting away all my other thoughts. Talk about your past coming back to bite you in the ass. Sergei Levkova. I’d briefly thought to call him when I was running through the list of my brother’s friends—his name was still in my cell phone. I’d transferred it into three different phones yet I hadn’t spoken to him in more than three years. For good reason. I’d put him firmly behind the door marked
Only open in case of severe emergency or complete insanity
.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Super Agent asked.

Here was the part where I could stare at the ceiling, whistling, or I could come clean.

He grunted. “
That’s
why.” He turned his laptop so I could see the screen, his FBI-Special-Agent gaze scanning my expression like a laser lie detector. “He shows up on your arrest record too.”

Sergei Levkova had contributed to more than my arrest record, but that was something I couldn’t discuss with Super Agent.

“We used to hang out,” I hedged.

He eyed me some more and I was pretty sure he knew I was hiding something. “Did you know he and Miguel own a business together?”

“No.” There was a reason why I didn’t keep close tabs on my brother and an even bigger reason why I wouldn’t follow whatever he and Sergei had cooked up together.

“Vasili Investments. It looks like it’s some kind of investment brokerage firm that boasts high returns. Hmm.”

He clacked away on his keyboard some more. I was at the edge of my seat now with the feeling of leaning over my own grave. I sent a frantic, fruitless prayer that he wouldn’t dig too far into Sergei or my relationship with him. That was a Pandora’s box that should never be reopened. But I knew enough about Super Agent to know he wouldn’t stop digging until he had all of his questions answered. And the man
never
ran out of questions.

I popped up out of my seat and tapped my bare wrist. “We’re behind schedule. I should’ve been naked and finding religion an hour ago.” Unzipping my dress, I started for my bedroom, hoping some skin would make him forget all about my brother and Sergei. I turned back and looked at him over my bare shoulder. “I’ll be in the bedroom assuming the position if you’d like to join me.”

My dress slid down the rest of the way to pool at my ankles. I kicked it at him, hitting him mid-chest. He practically threw his computer across the room and leapt off the couch, chasing me until we hit the bed. We landed in a twisted pile of limbs, struggling to rip each other’s clothes off. And then he kissed me and I forgot all about Miguel and Sergei.

By the time we were completely naked and rolling around on the bed I couldn’t remember my own name. Everything went out of my head except what Super Agent was doing with his hands and oohhhh…his mouth. His glorious, glorious mouth.

Chapter Three

I woke up with Super Agent’s warm body pressed against my backside, his arm around me and his leg over mine. It was like even in sleep he kept me tethered to him as though he was afraid I’d slip away. Which was ironic because that was exactly what I intended to do.

Wiggling like a deranged belly dancer, I was able to work myself free without waking him up. I’d worn him out pretty good so it was little wonder he slept so hard. I managed to find the dress I’d worn to dinner with Super Agent and went into the bathroom to put it on. How I looked was going to be important. I couldn’t exactly waltz into the club in my flannel PJs with my hair giving Medusa a run for her money.

Satisfied with how I looked, I tiptoed past a still-snoozing Super Agent with my high heels in hand and made it out of my apartment. I couldn’t have come up with an excuse for why I was leaving right after melting the sheets with Super Agent. Not one he’d buy anyway.

The club was in Phoenix, which was only twenty minutes from my Scottsdale apartment, but I sweated the whole way, wondering if Super Agent was going to wake up pissed off and catch up with me. I’d left my cell phone at home on purpose. Mostly because I didn’t put it past him to use his FBI-Special-Agent skills to track me like the dog I was. The guilt was killing me, but I couldn’t get it out of my head ever since Super Agent had said his name that Sergei was involved in or knew about what my brother was up to.

And I knew just where to find Sergei at one forty-five a.m. I pulled up to the front of EGO, the nightclub Sergei had opened just before we split up, and handed my key to the valet. There was still a line of people waiting to get in even though last call was in fifteen minutes. I sashayed my way to the front and was relieved to find Billy working the door.

He did a double take when he saw me. “Maggie?”

“Yup.” I jutted out a hip and propped my hand on it like I still garnered the VIP treatment. “I’m here to see Sergei.”

He shook his head, no doubt remembering the way
my
last call with Sergei had gone down, and lifted the velvet rope to let me through. “Good to see you, sexy.” I was sure if I turned around I’d catch him checking out my ass, but I was too cool to find out.

The place was pumping as loud and hard as my heart. And it was packed. I didn’t get why Sergei would go into business with Miguel when he already had a successful venture like this.

I found Sergei holding court in the VIP section surrounded by women as usual. Another bouncer stood between me and the answer to my brother’s whereabouts, but unfortunately I didn’t know this one.

“I’m here to see Sergei.” I did the hip-jutting thing again, giving Built of Blocks a bored look.

“You and every skirt in club,” he said in a thick Russian accent.

“Tell him Maggie’s here.”

“He know no Maggie.”

“Really?” I moved the left strap of my dress and pulled it down to reveal the tattoo I’d had done during my time with Sergei.

Built of Blocks’s thick eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “Pardon. I did not know.” He motioned me into the VIP lounge.

More than one mistake marked my body, but this tattoo symbolized more than a drunken night gone wrong or a whim I couldn’t shake. This one had branded me as Sergei’s. He wore its match over
his
heart. They were of his own design and my forever key into his world.

I strolled up to the booth where Sergei lounged with a blonde draped on one side and a brunette on the other and waited for him to notice me. The only way to get Sergei’s attention was to not demand it.

He picked up his glass and shot it straight back. That’s when he saw me.

“
Myshka
,” he breathed as he set his glass down with a
thunk
.

I’d caught him by surprise. He wouldn’t have used his term of endearment for me if I hadn’t. His little slip had every head at the table turning in my direction.

“May I have a word?” I asked with more confidence than I felt.

“Leave,” he said with a wave of his hands.

They slid out of the booth one at a time, passing me with interested looks and flat-out curiosity. The blonde’s jealousy raked over me like claws. I’d have punched her, but I could tell she was just too stupid for me to put the effort out.

“Sit,” Sergei told me in his lightly accented English. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.” I eased into the booth, keeping a respectable distance. “Do you know where Miguel is?”

“I am fine. How are you?”

“Fine. Miguel?”

He made a rude sound and finished off the rest of his drink. We eyeballed each other for a moment. Normally when I run into someone I’ve gone out with I wonder what I ever saw in him. Not true of Sergei. I remembered exactly why I’d been with him for as long as I had. Setting aside his big, tall, blond, hot Russian-ness, he was charismatic in a way few people are. With him I’d lost all commonsense, the ability to form a single original thought and my virginity.

“So it’s true,” he said.

“What?”

“He was smart enough to skip town, but not smart enough to do it without Kostya’s money.”

“What are you talking about? How would Miguel get ahold of your uncle’s money?” Kostya was more than Sergei’s uncle, he was as mobbed-up as you could get. If what Sergei was saying was true, my idiot brother didn’t just steal from a mobster. He stole from the mob boss himself.

He got the attention of a cocktail waitress and held up two fingers. Shit. This meant he was about to tell me a story I didn’t want to hear.

He ran his dark gaze over me, no doubt taking in what had changed about me while also cataloging what hadn’t. He reached out and moved the strap of my dress, revealing the tattoo,
his
tattoo. “You still have it.”

“Don’t you?”

He lifted his shirt, giving me an eyeful of sculpted abs and
my
tattoo atop his perfect pec. All too soon he covered it back up. “It’s good to see you, Maggie. You look good.”

“Thank you. So do you.”

The waitress deposited our drinks. Sergei picked up his glass, prompting me to do the same. He clinked his against mine.

“To Miguel.”

I took a sip of what I knew to be the very best tequila on earth. It had always been nothing but the best for Sergei.

“I helped him start up a new investment firm,” Sergei began. “I didn’t realize he’d turned it into a Ponzi scheme until after Kostya had invested a large sum of money and Miguel had run off. I started getting phone calls from my uncle three days ago, asking where Miguel and his money were. I love your brother, but he’s an idiot. Kostya’s looking for him. God help him if he’s found.” He downed the rest of his drink.

My brother was a flaming idiot to run off with Kostya’s money. And he was a dead idiot for sure if Kostya got a hold of him.

“Can you get me in to see your uncle?” I asked.

“Why? Unless you’ve got two and a half million dollars, you’re not going to sway him. He wants his money and to set an example.”