Undercover (14 page)

The old man shifted the grip on the weapon and reached for a walkie-talkie in his belt. Alex took the opportunity to get a little closer. A seasoned veteran wasn’t
that
easy to fool. Both hands back on the gun, the guard said, “Stop right there.”

“C’mon man, let’s just forget all this happened.”

“Stand still.”

Alex gambled the man wouldn’t shoot. He took one step closer, and discovered he was wrong. Luckily for him, hands that would easily have held the large weapon a few years earlier were now unprepared for its power, and the bullet grazed his shoulder instead of piercing his heart. Instinct kicked in, and a split second later he snapped the guard’s neck. Looking at the man’s body on the floor, feeling the fire of the wound spreading through his side, he clenched his jaw and muttered, “Crap.” This was another face that would haunt him in his dreams.

Climbing out of the windows and scaling an almost flat wall, he only had two thoughts in his head. One was cursing himself for being complacent; a person was dead because he wasn’t careful enough. The other was, “Jenny must never know.”

Getting away wasn’t difficult. It was a big city with countless opportunities for escape, even for a man with a bullet hole in his jacket and blood pouring down his side. Sidestepping into an alley, he took the time to try to stop the bleeding at least a little, and to rearrange his clothes to look more casual and less guilty.

It took a while for him to get back to the rented car, and by the time he reached it, he felt faint. Afterwards it would be a mystery to him how he got back to the gas station, cleaned any traces of himself out of the rental, and drove the Chevy the rest of the way home. By the time he got into the yard, he bled through the makeshift bandages he made for himself, and there was quite some cleaning to be done in the car. He ground his teeth and clung to the thought, “Jenny mustn’t know.”

Somehow, he managed. He got what he deserved. He was alive and he should be grateful; not everyone was so fortunate.

Once the car was clean, he peeled off his clothes. The fabric stuck to the wound and he swore between his teeth in Russian. There would be traces of him in the office, and on the bullet if they found it. He could only hope no one would make the connection to him.

If taking the clothes off was painful, that was nothing compared to the sensation of pouring disinfectant on the wound. He had become a real wimp since meeting Jenny. In the old days, a thing like this wouldn’t have fazed him in the least. Now, it justified at least half a bottle of aspirin for comfort. A drink to calm his conscience would have been most excellent, but she would notice
that.

He was almost done when he heard a car drive up in the yard and the front door open, and he hurried to slap a bandage over the wound, hide the bloody rags, and pull a clean shirt on. When he went down the staircase to greet his girl, his smile was almost natural.

Jenny didn’t seem to notice a thing, and Alex hoped he’d get away with it.

“It’s so great to be home early, you wouldn’t believe what a day I had. So, what have you been up to? What do you want for dinner?”

He grimaced when she hugged him, and was glad she couldn’t see his face. Then, she withdrew with a frown. There were red drops on her fingertips. “What is this? Why are you bleeding?”

The answer, “I’m not” came automatically, and he realized it was hopeless as soon as the words left his mouth. There was no way he’d be able to hide something like this from her long enough for the wound to heal. If not sooner, she’d discover it when they went to bed, or in the morning.

Jenny rolled her eyes and peeled his shirt off. “Men. Let me see that.”

He found himself seated on a kitchen chair less than a minute later, trying to think of an explanation that didn’t involve getting shot. He couldn’t, and when Jenny took the already soaked bandage off, she exclaimed, “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

She looked pale, and he hoped she wasn’t going to faint. “Maybe you should sit down, sweetheart.”

“You need a doctor, this is huge, it must be sewn. And you need some… penicillin or something so you don’t get an infection.”

Alex shook his head and reached out for her with his other hand. “No. There can be no doctor. It’s just a scratch, and it will heal on its own.”

“This is not a scratch.”

There would have to be at least a dozen feasible explanations, but he still heard his mouth tell her the truth. “I… uh… I got shot.”

She opened her mouth and shut it again without a sound coming out, and he tried to soften the truth. “It’s not that bad, sweetheart. There’s no bullet in me, so I didn’t really get shot, it just brushed me. But if I go to the doctor with a bullet wound, I could just as well hang a sign saying ‘guilty’ around my neck.”

The word guilty made it all worse, but it had been a long day, his side was pounding, he was dizzy from loss of blood, and he couldn’t think of any better way to say it.

Jenny mumbled something to herself, and he couldn’t quite make it out. It was something about “men,” “crazy,” and “Russian.” She shouted, “You are
so
lucky I love you. Did you put disinfectant on this?”

He nodded, and she patched it up with surgical tape and bandages, grumbling, “I’m not a field surgeon. I’m
not
putting a needle in you. This needs to be sewn, but I’m not doing it. If you want needle and thread in your body, you can do it yourself, or find someone else to do it.”

Her ranting made him feel better. It was something real, and though he didn’t doubt she was very angry with him, her annoyance was real too.

As much as he tried to get out of telling her what happened, he couldn’t. By the time he was done, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You are
so
lucky there’s a big hole in you. I will pretend this all happened in self-defense.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left the kitchen without saying another word, and he got up to follow her, only to sink back down on the chair when the room spun around him. Blood loss came secondary to getting up and following her. He leaned against a counter and trudged on towards the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“Out for a drive. And no, you can’t come.”

In the next moment, the door slammed shut behind her and he sunk down on the staircase, cursing quietly between his teeth.

Hours crept by without a sign of her. Maybe she talked to the police. That might not be too bad; if she turned him in, she would probably step out of it unharmed. He had a dim idea of how the American justice system worked. She tried to explain the difference between federal and state laws and courts and judges, and it seemed extremely complicated to him. Maybe he would be sentenced to death, or go to prison. He deserved to be punished and didn’t worry too much about it.

Time passed and nothing happened, and he wondered if she was alright. Maybe she wouldn’t come back. Maybe she’d been in an accident. She was an excellent driver, but she also very upset. She might have driven off the road.

He wanted to go out and look for her, but had no idea of where she’d gone. He tried calling her, but she didn’t answer.

By the time he finally heard the door open the house was dark. He sat in the kitchen, pretending to leaf through a book with a single lamp for company. He wanted to go meet her, but it would be better to give her space and time. It was still hard to hide his relief when he saw her in the kitchen doorway.

“Will they find you? Are you safe here?”

“I don’t think anywhere is safe, my darling, but I don’t think they know it was me.”

She nodded and disappeared out of sight, and he heard her go upstairs.

That night, Jenny lay on her side of the bed, keeping her distance to him. It was the first time. Not having her in his arms made him feel hollow inside. “Are you still angry?”

He heard her sigh. “No. You did what you had to do, I guess. But if there’s a next time you have to be more careful. You could be in jail right now. You could be dead. I saw it on the news. That guy had a family.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You have to do something for them. Send them something.”

It would be difficult without leading investigators right to them, but he supposed it could be done. “I will. I can’t make it up to them, but I’ll take care of them.” How much simpler life would have been for the old him who didn’t care. “If you’re not angry with me, won’t you please come over here?”

Jenny shook her head, but her answer wasn’t quite what he expected. He thought she would yell his murdering hands wouldn’t come anywhere near her, but instead she whispered, “No. You’re hurt. I’m afraid to make it worse if I touch you.”

In spite of it all, Alex’s mouth twitched into a little smile. “Fair enough. But I have a real good spot for your head here on my chest, and if you’re not angry with me, I think you should come and claim it.”

Leaning on an elbow, she stared at him. “You have to tell me the very second I start hurting you.”

He lied, “I promise.” He was desperate to have her close, to feel the comfort of her body next to his, and if that meant pain, he deserved it and would gladly accept any amounts of it.

Chapter Seventeen

A bony hand of fear clawed at Jenny’s insides. Alex’s bandage turned red no matter how much she changed it. He was pale and clearly in pain, but shrugged all questions off, saying he would heal with time. If the wound became infected, he could die. And, what if he lost too much blood? He could get really sick, and what if she
had
to get a doctor, and led the pursuers right to him?

As time went by, he did heal, but she found the wait gruesome.

She pretended not to notice all the weapons he hid around the house, and if she reached for a pot and found a gun instead, she just mumbled, “Silly man,” and tried again. Life was peaceful on the surface, but there was nothing safe or certain about it. At the moment, she concentrated on being grateful for every day, and refused to let her fears get to her.

Mark kept his word, and Alex went to work as sales representative for the Eastern European market. They weren’t working together, but they were in the same building, and having him so close helped soothe Jenny’s worries. He couldn’t disappear off somewhere when they shared a car, and the possibility of bumping into him at random times during the day was exhilirating.

Jenny became Mrs Alexei Roshenko in August that year. They had a small wedding, but a big party, and late that night they danced slowly, close together. He held her in a firm grip, and she wanted him to undress her, wanted to feel his hands on her skin. She whispered, “Bed?” and he nodded slightly, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her all the way to their room.

When he put her down, he kneeled in front of her and ran his hands up her legs, up under her long white dress, playing with the garters, and an expectant shiver ran through her body. She
wondered why they never seemed to tire of each other, wondered what exactly made the difference between Alex and her previous lovers. Besides infatuation and an immense attraction, that was. Her husband was unpredictable and imaginative, and never, ever, boring.

Thinking the word
husband
sent an expectant tingle down her spine. He undressed her slowly, taking good time to run his hands over her body, kissing every inch of soft skin he could get to, including the warm and tingly portion between her legs. As far as wedding nights go, it could hardly have been better.

*****

Alex worried his employers in Russia would do something on their wedding day, just to show they could, but the only life sign from them was a card, saying, “Enjoy your beautiful wife, Alexei.” He hoped the old men would just die or grow senile enough to forget about him, but it’s never that easy to get rid of evil.

The newlyweds talked about having children, and decided against it. If the worst happened it would be difficult to protect them, and Alex worried enough as it was. He was constantly haunted by the thought that he might not be able to shield his wife. Playing with Nori’s children helped him discover that he liked kids, and if circumstances were different, he would have liked to have a bunch of his own.

One morning when his alarm went off, Jenny pulled the sheets up over her head. She didn’t usually jump up and greet the morning with joy and laughter, but this was new to him. He inched the sheet down. “Are you okay?”

What he could see of her was pale, and she tugged the thin fabric up again, groaning, “I feel horrible.”

He had to smile in spite of the punch of worry that hit his stomach. “Are you hiding from me?”

The shape under the sheet nodded. “Please go away. You can’t see me like this. Go away.”

“I’ll call you in sick, okay. Want me to stay home with you? Do you need anything?”

She sounded like she was choking. “No… Thank you… Just… go…”

He didn’t know what to do. He definitely didn’t want to leave her, but she told him to go, so he moseyed downstairs, wanting to leave the upstairs bathroom available to her. He took a shower, made some coffee, and went back upstairs. Jenny lay on top of the sheets now, still pale, but seemingly feeling a little better.

He trailed the back of his fingers over her forehead. “Let me stay home with you.”

“No… You can get me a glass of water if you want.”

She was never sick, and this was the longest day of his life. He called her and wanted to call again as soon as he hung up. When he finally came back home the house was dark, and he assumed she was sleeping. Finding her sitting curled up on the sofa, weeping softly in the dark, scared him. There were many things that would make her cry, at times even a sad part in a book would do it and he loved her sensitivity, but when sitting all alone without even a lamp for company it sent chills down his back.

He sat down beside her and took her hand. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and clung to him, and he could barely make out her words. “I’m scared.”

“Baby doll, what is wrong?”

This time she answered. “We’re having a baby.”