Alexei Sokolov does not seem like a man who would panic, even back then.
“If you didn’t kill him, who did?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it, Peaflower? I have a feeling we’re going to need to figure that out if we’re going to get anywhere with this.”
The man has a point. I reach for another file folder. “Let’s discuss the judge and the prosecuting attorney. Who could have bribed them?” I need to figure out exactly what they did to ensure Alexei’s conviction, and then I should investigate my colleague, Miles. “What do you think?”
Alexei shrugs. “That’s a long list. That would include everybody from my family to anybody I pissed off, to the rival social media company owners. We better unfreeze those funds fast.”
I nod. “We’re going to need more than one private investigator.”
He smiles. “All right. This has been productive. How about you and I go grab lunch now?”
There’s no doubt in my mind he does not meanlunch.
THIRTEEN
Alexei
Hot, red, poisonous biting ants are crawling beneath my skin, shredding layer after layer as they tunnel through my flesh. The elevator door opens, and I manacle Rosalie’s hand, yanking her into the quiet parking garage.
“Hey.” She tries to pull away, surprise in her tone.
I’m done. Finished being inside four walls. Any walls. We ordered lunch in and worked on my case until about five, and then my throat started to close. So I keep her hand. Her skin is soft and cool, calming enough to tether me to this world. For now.
“Alexei.” She sets her feet to stop me. “I forgot my phone upstairs.”
I keep us moving, maneuvering between cars until reaching my bike. Replaying the day that my freedom ended, over and over for her today, had an inferno boiling in my gut. Relating my unfortunate vulnerability to Rosalie specifically had poured oil on those flames. “Get on.”
“No.” She uses her free hand to push against my ribs.
I turn, lowering my head toward hers, fire burning through me. “Get. On. The. Bike.” My voice is a low growl, and even I don’t recognize it. Then I straddle the bike, still holding her hand.
Her blue eyes widen, and her pupils contract. “I don’t—”
I twist my torso, snatch her waist, lift her, and plant her on the back in one easy motion. I can’t breathe. Can barely think. Yanking the key from my front pocket, I slam it into place and twist. The engine ignites and roars awake between my thighs. I enable the launch motion with my right thumb, use my left hand to pull the clutch, and engage the first gear with my foot for a fast takeoff.
Rosalie yelps and grabs my ribcage under my jacket with both hands, scooting closer to me.
I zip through the parking garage and out onto the street, letting the bike have her lead.
Wind whips against my face, and I partially lift, feeling freedom. Finally, I can take a deep breath. Cars honk as I zip between them, noting how perfectly Rosalie fits her legs against mine.
The woman is a natural.
When I move, she moves. Perfect unison. I steer away from the busy street onto side streets, leaving the city. My heart finally slows to a normal rhythm. As the sound of horns and screeching brakes fade away, I notice her yelling at me. Well, against me, her mouth to the back of my jacket.
When we reach a quiet warehouse district, I slow and partially turn my head. “What are you yelling about?”
“You fucking fuck head,” she screams, digging her nails into my skin.
Fascinating. I turn another corner and slow down near a rusting metal warehouse labeled ‘Bob’s.’ I have no idea who Bob is, but he’s definitely not around right now. The garage doors are shut tight, and darkness shows through the grimy window of the man-sized door. Water drips from the roof to the battered asphalt from the rain of last night, the sound forlorn.
So I pull to a stop.
She retracts her nails, pulls her hands free of my jacket, and then smacks my back. “You’re such a complete dick.” Grasping my jacket, she swings off the bike and takes several steps away, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
