I feel pity and even sorrow for her. She’s lost both of her sons. I can’t imagine that kind of pain. “We’ll find out who killed him, Mrs. Sokolov,” I say quietly. “But it wasn’t Alexei.”
She hisses and leaps toward me with her fingers and nails extended. Garik once again pulls her away from me.
“You probably helped him. We all know you’re screwing him,” she screams.
My stomach rolls over.
She sticks her hands in her rain slicker, looking fragile and desperate. Lonely. “It was your letter opener. I bet you killed him together to get the company—to get all of the money. I’ll take you both down. I promise.”
With that, she turns, her light-gray raincoat swirling, and stomps back down the stairs, cameras clicking the whole way. She reaches a running black town car at the curb, opens the back door herself, and gets in. It drives quickly off.
The reporters begin shouting questions at both Alexei and me. Garik pushes people out of the way, and we get to the curb where he also has a town car waiting. He opens the back door, and I hurry inside, scooting over so Alexei can follow me.
The reporters get closer, cameras right up against the windows that, thank goodness, are tinted. Garik elbows his way through them to cross around and get into the driver’s side where he starts the vehicle and guns the engine. He has to nudge them with the car to force them out of the way, but soon we’re miles from the courthouse.
I drop my face into my hands. This is a disaster.
“How bad is it?” Alexei asks.
My voice is muffled but I don’t care. “Legally, it’s terrible. I will be taken off your case. I’ll be made a material witness, and if they can prove the affair, I’ll lose my law license.” Too bad hiding isn’t an option. I sit up. “I know what you did for my friend.” We can finally speak freely.
“I’m aware,” he says.
Garik looks in the review mirror. “There will be reporters at your place, Rosalie. Maybe at the new building you bought, Alexei, if they know about it. That’s where I suggest we go.”
Alexei leans back and gingerly removes his jacket. I help him, wondering how bad his wound pains him now. He’s pale beneath his bronzed skin.
“You need a painkiller,” I say.
“I took some ibuprofen. I’ll be fine. Drive to Reno, Garik.”
Garik jolts. “What? You want to go to Nevada?”
“I do. Reno’s about three and a half hours. Do me a favor and make it in three.” Alexei tosses the jacket on the floor.
I pick it up and fold it neatly across my lap. “I’m not going to Reno. I have a job to save.”
“This is how we’re going to save it,” he says.
“By leaving the state?” I shake my head. “Alexei, this isn’t making any sense. Why do you want to go to Nevada?”
He leans his head back on the seat and shuts his eyes. “Because they don’t have a wait time to obtain a marriage license there.”
I turn more toward him, shock slashing through me. “Are you insane? We’re not getting married.”
His answer is a soft snore.
I shake his good shoulder until he opens one eye. Then he wraps his healthy arm around me and drags me into his side. “I’m sleeping for a few minutes. We can argue then.” He closes his eyes again, sound asleep in less than a minute.
How does he do that? Okay. Fine. I can give him fifteen minutes, and then we’re fighting about this. I am absolutely not going to Nevada to get married.
Somehow, I nod off and find myself awakening in Nevada.
Garik pulls the car up to a cute little wedding chapel. “I’ll go in and make the arrangements,” he says.
“Take your time.” Alexei says, his voice gravelly.
I blink myself awake and look over to see him studying me, his eyes dark.
