Only One Man Will Do (18 page)

“Goulash is the ultimate Russian version of stew,” he explained as the delicious smells almost made her hungry enough to eat. As it was, the lump in her throat combined with the tears brimming just behind her eyes, and she was unable to swallow anything more substantial than the beer.

“Smells delicious, but I don’t think I can eat anything.” She took another sip from the glass.

He sat across from her, sipping his vodka on ice, studying her closely.

“You look like you haven’t been eating or sleeping,
Sashka
. You need to do both to keep up your strength. Maybe you need a soak in the Jacuzzi and a back rub, to relax you enough for you to get some rest.”

She swirled the beer around before she asked, casually she hoped, “What is it you wanted to apologize to me for?”

His lips twitched in amusement at her question.

“I didn’t realize just how late you were going to stay at the office. I got hungry, once the goulash was done, and even though I meant to wait for you, I couldn’t help myself. So I’ve already eaten. I’m sorry…I know that’s rude. But I don’t mind watching you eat. I’ll enjoy seeing you enjoy my cooking.”

That’s it? That’s all you’re sorry for?

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can eat. I’m too stressed. Tom’s funeral was today. You weren’t there to support me, were you?”

He looked solemn. “I didn’t think it was wise to be seen in public where the policeman would have a chance to question me.”

“Why not? What’re you afraid of?” She tried not to sound accusing, but from the surprised look on his face, she failed.

“I told you, Alexandra, I’m in the process of getting a legal identity. But these things are not as easy as they used to be, back before everything was so computerized. Hacking into federal records is chancy no matter which system you’re breaking into. The agent who is doing this for me is taking a huge risk by doing it.”

“Then why’s he helping you?”

“Because I’m calling in a marker, and
she
wants things cleared between us.”

Despite everything, Alexandra felt an instantaneous spark of jealousy.

“She? No wonder you stayed so long out of town.”

His lips curved upwards for an instant as he stared at her face. “There’s no need for you to be jealous of any woman,
Sashka
…ever. I stayed because she needed my help in creating me an identity. She has the right to expect I won’t get picked up, which would require a background check when it’s not ready for that kind of scrutiny yet. That would not only result in my being deported, it would expose her to repercussions from her illegal actions. I’m protecting her as much as myself, by avoiding answering any official questions at this point in time.”

“So that’s why you ducked out of the wake when the detective walked in?”

“Yes.”

“Not because you’re afraid of what he would ask you?”

He leaned back in his chair and watched her closely. He spoke softly, with sadness in his voice.

“Is that what you really think? Is that the opinion you have of me, after all we’ve shared?”

Alexandra felt a tear roll down her cheek and she ignored it. She felt herself getting angry, which at least was familiar enough to allow her more control than the overwhelming sadness she was afraid to wallow in.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re a killer. You told me that the first time I met you. You know how to kill and you’ve done it before. Why not now? You’ve told me that you want me for yourself. Seems like eliminating the competition would be the best way to do that.”

She watched as his hands shook while he lifted the glass to his lips to take another sip of his vodka. When he spoke again his words sounded heavy, as if it hurt him to say them.

“Alexandra, I don’t know how to say this so you will believe me. But I had nothing to do with the deaths of your two friends.”

“Just a coincidence that you were out of town for both of their murders, then, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Someone’s trying to set you up, right?”

“Yes.”

She spoke without even thinking of the repercussions of tipping him off to what she knew. She lashed out at him with pent-up frustration and anger.

“So someone else rented the car that was used to hit Tom, then turned around the next day and drove by Jim to shoot him? Someone else dumped the car into a nearby lake? Someone else rented the car paying cash because he had no license…but
he
did
have a Russian accent?”

He stood up and walked over to the counter to pour himself more vodka, his back to her. His next words astounded her.

“Wot, me luv? ‘E ‘ad an occent? Not lak a Cockney?”

“Perhaps he sounded more like a British gentleman, who was schooled at Eton and Cambridge?” Now he sounded like James Bond.

“Or mie-be he sawnded lak a southenuh, from Geor-giah? And ah mean the one near Waw-shing-tun, Day-Say, nat the wun in Russ-ky-la-yand.”

He turned to look into her eyes.

“Name an English-speaking area of the world, Alexandra. I can probably do the accent well enough to pass, at least to a non-native. And I can do accents in many other languages as well.”

She sputtered, “But you always talk with a Slavic accent…”

“Yes, when I’m being myself. When I’m relaxed. It’s how I originally learned to speak English. But it’s not the only accent I know. If I was trying to cover my tracks, wouldn’t I have used any of a dozen other accents, rather than the one that would lead everyone directly to me?”

Her anger was leaving her and she felt even more vulnerable.

“But you’ve been telling me since you met me that you want me for yourself. You walked out on me at the barn because of that. You’re the only one who has ever said that to me…”

He walked back to sit down heavily on the chair, as if weighed down by the importance of what he was saying.

“My sweet, impetuous, wonderful Alexandra. You’re so much like a man in so many ways, holding your own in business situations and riding herd over a bunch of unruly bikers in your off-time. But you really don’t understand the mind of a man, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the only man who wants you to myself, Alexandra,” he said softly. “I’m just the only one to be honest enough to tell you that.”

“But no other guy in the gang ever said that.”

“No, but many thought it. When a man has great sex with a woman, we are hard-wired to want that woman to ourselves. They only shared because you made it clear it was either that or lose the chance to have sex with you again. The jealousy directed at me when I was in the bar with you came from many of the men in your gang. I was even told that sooner or later I’d have to get used to being just one of your men. I said I’d leave before it came to that. And I meant it.”

“Then why are you still here?”

He leaned forward. “Because I thought I was making progress with you. I originally only intended to stick around long enough to see if I could tame the fiery, redheaded, wildcat biker queen. I didn’t expect you to be everything I have ever wanted in a woman. I didn’t expect you to be my equal in every important way, including but not limited to, in bed. And I certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with you. But I did.”

Alexandra felt the lump in her throat threatening to render her speechless, and the tears flowed freely down her face.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

He reached across the table to hold the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the beer glass.

“Honey, at least one other man wants you for himself. That’s the man who was directing the most amount of jealousy towards me. That’s the one who has decided that I’m the competition that must be eliminated. And what better way to do it than to use what you already told them about me, that as part of my former life I have committed murder in the past, and leave clues that point directly to me as being the killer. This way two other men are gone, and I’ll be sent to jail or deported. Either way, that will leave you defenseless and mostly alone. And that man will step in to comfort you in your loss.”

“But who would do that?”

“I don’t know. But I swear to you by all that’s holy, and by the graves of my grandparents, that it wasn’t me, Alexandra. I love you, but I won’t kill to keep you. I’d kill to keep you safe, but that’s different.”

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. She was astounded by the pain she saw there.

“Murder is a hard thing to do. I’ve done it when ordered to, and I’ve done it when it was him or me. But it’s not to be done lightly or easily. Years ago I made the split-second choice not to kill the woman who is creating my legal identity. She knew it and said she owed me. That’s why she’s taking such a risk for me.

But if it came to you deciding that having other men is more important than being with me, I’d leave town. There would be no further reason for me to stay. And I’d go back to the constant motion of a man with no allegiance to anyone or anything. I’ve lived like that for a very long time. It’s just that…I thought I had finally found a reason to belong somewhere.”

She was sobbing now, her words mostly garbled.

“But you know so many ways to kill, you said…”

“Since I
do
know so many ways to literally get away with murder, why on earth would I be so sloppy as to leave so many clues pointing directly to me?”

She jumped at a sudden noise from the hall outside of her condo and stood up quickly, remembering.

“You have to go! Dmitri, you have to get out of here!” Alarm was in her voice.

He stood and took the few steps to enfold her in his arms.

“Why? Are you still afraid of me?”

“No! I called the police when I got home! They’re probably almost here! You’ve got to get out of here before they get here! Oh, Dmitri, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what to think or believe! I thought it was you and it was tearing me apart!”

He caressed the side of her face with one hand and turned her head up to look into her eyes.

“And now?”

“You need to get out of here! Please! I’m sorry I called! I’m sorry I didn’t trust you! Just go!”

He lowered his head and crushed her lips with his, as he pulled her so close she could feel his heartbeat. She moaned and twined her arms around him, capitulation in every part of her body that molded itself to him.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“It’s them! Go!”

He nodded. “I’ll contact you soon. I’ll think of a plan to catch the real murderer. “

“How are you going to get out?”

“You’re only on the twelfth floor. And there are balconies outside. Remind me to tell you someday about the time I escaped from a penthouse on top of a skyscraper with no balconies. This is a piece of cake.”

The knocking got louder and more insistent.

She pushed him away from her, desperation in her voice.

“Go…now!”

He strode over to the balcony in the living room and slid the door open. He turned to blow her a kiss.

“I love you, Dmitri!”

The happy smile he gave her lit her soul with joy.

“Then I promise you, nothing can hurt us or keep us apart.”

He swung a leg over the balcony, then he was gone. She turned to walk over to the front door that was being pounded on continuously.

She took a deep breath before she unlocked the door. It was pushed open quickly and her living room was suddenly full of uniforms and one very irate-looking detective.

“Where is he?” He demanded.

Alexandra took a deep breath. “He’s gone. He left about fifteen minutes ago.”

He stared into her face, trying to decide if he believed her or not. She kept her face as neutral as she could, while trying not to look as guilty as she felt.

“I told you to keep him here.”

“I tried to. But he said he had an appointment and he was just here to make me dinner. Then he left.”

The other officers returned from searching the other rooms. They shook their heads at his questioning look.

“He’s not here, sir,” said the one who had come from the bedroom.

“There’s food in the kitchen, and signs that someone ate already, and a plateful is set for another person. But he’s gone.”

Detective Jones looked around the room.

“The balcony door is open. Check the balcony…maybe he’s out there.”

Alexandra was practicing deep-breathing to calm herself down as the officer went onto the balcony, looked around and directly down. He re-entered the living room shaking his head.

“No sign of him, sir.”

Detective Jones turned to Alexandra with an accusing stare.

“You aren’t covering for him in any way, are you, Miss Blackstone?”

She reached inside of herself for the anger she felt at the perpetrator.

“Why would I? I want the guilty person caught and punished! Tom and Jim were my friends. Very close friends. I want their deaths avenged in the most painful way possible. So, no. If I had any suspicion he was the one responsible for the funerals I’ve been dreading, I’d never cover for him.”