Without discussing it, I've found myself moved into the master bedroom, all the clothes Ella supplied me with are hanging nonchalantly in his closet, my toothbrush and face cream lined up on the sink next to his. Something's happening here, something bigger than protecting me. But I'm not ready to face it head on.
Reports from the search for the trafficking ring are sporadic, though Dmitri tells me one afternoon that Cynthia, the monster who posed as a real estate agent, was found dead in Las Vegas. It's hard to mourn her. I catch just a glimpse of the photo he'd been sent. Her neck was a bloody mess, but he closes the file before I can see why.
"You seem to be handling that pretty well," he says, his icy blue eyes searching my face. "Why don't we go out tonight? We're launching the soft opening of a new sports pub in Tribeca. Roman and Alexsey will be there, along with gourmet nachos."
"You had me at nachos," I say, happy to be going out again. Dmitri has been protective to the point of creepily obsessive since the shooting. It'll be nice to have a normal night out, like regular people.
The sports bar has all the right elements, banners from World Series' past, signed, framed jerseys and a huge TV in every corner, blaring baseball games, soccer games, rugby matches, a horse race… The cacophony from the crowd and the games is almost overwhelming.
"Ava! You made it." Roman gives me a brisk kiss on the cheek and introduces me to a willowy brunette named… Willow. She's wearing a dress more suited for a dance club with sky-high heels and looks a little disappointed in the turn her evening has taken.
"Do you always go out to one of your places?" She pouts at Roman. "A sports bar is sopedestrian."
"Yeah, the drinks are free," he says, popping a peanut in his mouth. Something tells me she's not getting a second date.
"Would you like a beer?" Dmitri asks, "Or something stronger, a margarita?"
"No thank you." Just the smell of beer on a hot summer night is nauseating. "I don't drink the night before I'm working, and that's pretty much every day."
"Mother needs to take you off the roster," he says with a concerned frown.
"Don't you dare!" I jab a finger in his very hard chest. "Do you know how much I'm learning right now? I'd never get access to these kinds of procedures at Bellevue."
"Workaholic," he shakes his head.
"Pot, meet Kettle."
I do say yes to nachos with shredded smoked brisket, chorizo sausage, and an obscene amount of cheese, which I consume with a very nice woman named Rachel after Dmitri introduces us.
"I remember you!" Rachael gasps, "You were Dmitri's date at the wedding. Adam's around here, I know he'll want to meet you. I think he's watching the last inning of the baseball game with Ilya. That's his brother."
She takes a blissful sip of her electric blue margarita. "Are you sure you don't want a taste? It's really good."
"Yeah, I had a bad experience with tequila," I say, feeling vaguely nauseous. "We broke up."
"There's always that one kind of booze, isn't there?" Rachael laughs sympathetically. When it's time to leave, she gives me a hug and we make plans for a double date soon. It sounds awkward and unwieldy in my mouth. Double date? That implies boyfriend and girlfriend.
The bar is quieter now, most of the games are over and the TVs are turned down, I go on my tiptoes, looking for Dmitri.
"Shut the fuck up! I'm trying to hear what the ref said. That final call was bullshit."
My stomach tries to surge up my throat.
I know that voice.
Dmitri slides his arm around my waist, holding me steady. "What's wrong?"
"That voice," I whisper. "I heard him. That's the voice."
"Which voice?"
"From my dream." I look up at him. Dmitri's icy blue eyes warm up when he's worried about me, like a glacier melting. "From my nightmare," I repeat. "The voice I heard down the hall when the girl was crying and promising that she wouldn't tell anyone. That's him."
He looks over my shoulder, and his eyes narrow. "Ava, are you sure," he says urgently. He doesn't want me to be right, I can tell. "I need you to beabsolutelycertain about what you're telling me."
"I'm certain," I say stubbornly. "There's an inflection on how he says 'up,' the whiny tone is-" I break off, putting my hand over my mouth. I will not throw up in the middle of this club. I'm sure I already look crazy.
Dmitri leans down, his cheek resting against mine. "I believe you. I do. Rurik and Matvey are going to take you home."
