Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Da. He and Vassi are both there.”
“I haven’t seen them.”
“I should hope not.”
“Well, you know, they kind of suck at their jobs,” I told him, sitting up in bed, not happy to realize I was the only one in it. “I almost died last night.”
“No, you did not. Danya said your inspector had everything under control.”
“Oh, did he?”
“He said he found you with no difficulty. Danya stayed with him, Vassi trailed after you.”
“He shot at me, you know. Lucien, the guy who was trying to kill me,” I explained. “He shot at me.”
“Vassi said he was poor shot.”
I growled at him. “Tell Vassi I’m gonna kick his ass when I see him.”
The low chuckle made me smile in spite of myself. “I will, dorogoi, I certainly will.”
Clearing my throat, I was finally getting up the guts to ask, after so many years of friendship, what the Russian term meant. And yes, I could have googled it at any point or asked any of the other people I knew who spoke the language, but I’d always wanted to hear what it meant from the man who used it specifically for me.
“What?” he asked me.
“Dorogoi. What is that?”
“Dear,” he said flatly. “It means dear.”
“So…you like me a lot.”
“Da.”
And that was all I needed to push further into his life. “We should hang out more once I get home. Like, you should come over, and we’ll have dinner, and you can meet Cord. All right?”
“I would like that.”
“It’s long overdue.”
“Agreed.”
“Not this Saturday, but the one after that, I want you to break bread with Cord.”
“I will hold you to this,” he said hoarsely.
“You won’t have to. I’ll make sure it happens.”
“Good.”
And it would be.
When the door opened two hours later, Cord walked in with pepperoni pizza, a six-pack of Pepsi, and peach cobbler. If I hadn’t been in love with him before, that would have sealed the deal.
“I’m gonna have Dimah over for dinner when we get home,” I announced as we both sat down at the table.
“That sounds great,” he said, grinning before he leaned sideways and kissed me.
I wanted that to keep going, but his stomach growled, so I pulled away. “Food first, then more fooling around.”
“Definitely.”
“Hey, what time is it?” I asked while we were both shoving pizza into our mouths.
He muttered something I missed over the chewing.
“One more time, Nolan.”
“It’s evening.”
“Oh shit, I lost a whole day.”
“You were wiped out after that ordeal. You needed the sleep,” he informed me, reaching out and touching my cheek.
We ate more, and finally I asked him what was going to happen to Lucien.
“Well, first off, he’ll be extradited to California, and second, he’ll be evaluated to see if he’s fit to stand trial or if he’s too much of a whack job.”
“What do you think?”
“I think he’s good to go.” He passed me another napkin before placing two more slices of pizza on my paper plate. “I don’t think there’s any problem with his reasoning. He knows what he did and why. He killed Tim Stanson with malice and forethought. That right there tells me he was very much aware of what he was doing. Mark my words, they are gonna lock Lucien Ritter up for the rest of his life.”
My eyes flicked to his. “But if they don’t, they’ll tell me before they let him out, right?”
“Baby, if they let him out, you don’t have to worry. I’ll be right there with you.”
I nodded.
“You trust me?”
“Absolutely.”
He looked quite pleased. “Good.”
“Do you know the name of the man Lucien shot?”
“I do. His name’s Michael Ivory, and he was a handyman here in town. Nice guy, from what everyone’s told me. He just had some gambling debts that Lucien had been good enough to pay off for him in exchange for a favor to be named later.”
“And last night he called it in.”
“Yes.”
“Poor guy.”
“Yes and no. I mean, baby, come on.”
“What?”
“No matter what someone does for you, you don’t let them put a gun in your hand and agree to kidnap someone. This is not The Godfather, yeah? This is real life.”
There was that.
“He had other choices besides doing exactly what Lucien Ritter asked of him.”
“Yes.”
“Running, going to the police,” he said, listing them for me. “Really, there are lots of alternatives to perpetrating a federal crime if you’re a rational human being.”
“Maybe he felt he had no choice.”
“I promise you, there is always a choice.”
I was too tired to be logical. “Okay.”
“Okay, Cord, you’re right? Or okay, Cord, I’ll do anything if you just shut the fuck up?”
“Both?” I smiled at him. “Somewhere between the two?”
“I’ll take it.”
“So when can we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. I already have the tickets.”
I got up and tackle-hugged him, falling down into his lap.
“God,” he groaned, and I felt a tremble run through his long, muscular frame. “Please don’t let this change. Please like me this much when we get home.”