SIX
Rosalie
Ismack my hand against my forehead several times as the rain beats down against my car when I execute a quick U-turn to return to the bar. I cannot believe I forgot to have Alexei sign the two affidavits I need to file with the motion to release his funds. He flustered me so much that I can barely think even now.
Thunder ripples above me, and in the distance, lightning strikes. I shiver and turn on a little bit of heat. The rain isn’t unexpected this time of year, and yet the storm seems angry. Right now, the whole world feels furious.
I shake my head and then see Alexei walk out of the Amethyst up ahead. He even prowls like a panther, and I shove that thought into an abyss.
If he just signs these documents, I can get myself home. It’s my turn to buy dinner for my boarders, and they get cranky if I’m late.
A brown car, dented and rusty, zooms out of the alley in front of me, headed straight toward Alexei. I gasp and stiffen. He sees the car, and his body braces. A black barrel emerges from the driver’s side of the back door, and I scream, frantically trying to press my button to roll my window down.
“Alexei, run,” I yell.
A pattering fills the air as Alexei ducks back into the bar. The man shooting continues to spray the bar’s exterior as the car accelerates and quickly zips out of sight. I didn’t see a license plate. I gasp, panting, shock buzzing through me.
I speed up and park near the curb before ducking out and running to shove open the door and almost fall inside the dim-lit bar. Twin barrels meet my startled gaze, one from a tall man behind the counter and one from Alexei. Upon seeing me, they both lower their weapons.
“Are you all right?” I sputter.
Alexei, red blooming over the left side of his chest, looks over at the man I recognize as Garik. “You okay?”
“I’m good,” Garik says. “Are they gone?”
I nod numbly. “We should call the police.”
Garik’s eyebrows lift, and Alexei tucks his gun at the back of his waist.
“Were you shot?” I hurry toward him and gently pry the material away. The borrowed shirt is quickly turning crimson.
“I’m good,” he says, looking at the back door. “She ran fast.”
Garik lopes around the bar and moves toward us without ceremony, ripping Alexei’s shirt over his head. I gulp. Blood now slides down his well-tattooed and scarred front to pool at his waistband. Garik prods his back, and Alexei growls. “Looks like a through and through. You’re going to need stitches.” He returns to the bar and throws a filthy bar rag towards Alexei, who snatches it out of the air with one hand.
I hold up a hand. “Don’t put that against ...” He covers his bleeding wound. I wince.
“Come on, lawyer,” he says, his face pale beneath his bronze skin. “I need a ride.”
I can’t believe this.
He walks outside, looks both ways, and moves slowly around to duck into my passenger seat, holding his arm to his body. He’s going to get blood all over my car. I shake my head, give one look to Garik, and follow Alexei outside, shutting the door behind me before glancing back at the bullet holes. They match many of the others in the buildings down the street.
What have I gotten myself into?
I get in the car, which is still running, and pull away from the curb. “I’ll take you to Catholic General.”
“No,” he says. “Go left here.”
I need to turn left anyway, so I do. “What do you mean no? Is there a hospital you prefer?”
“No, just follow my directions. I know how to heal this.”
If he wants to bleed to death, I guess that’s his problem. It would certainly fix my current schedule. I wonder if I still get credit for having secured his release if he dies. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“No. There’s nothing to tell them, and I don’t want to be on their radar right now.”
Not liking this, I follow his terse directions and end up a few miles away from town in a rundown area showing very little life. “This area’s even worse than where your bar is located,” I murmur.
