Blinking away tears, I look up, remaining in place. More smoke begins to rise around the car. His face set in a grim mask, he walks to the passenger side of the vehicle and lifts the heavyset man back inside, flicking a silver lighter. It’s the one I saw the guy at the end of the road use to light a cigarette.
Alexei leans down. Soon more flames and smoke become visible. He walks around to the other side and lights the driver’s shirt on fire. Then he ducks between a couple of warehouses and returns with what looks like a bunch of dried leaves and grass that he throws in the back seat.
I’m frozen in place and can’t move. All I can do is watch. He ignores me, entering and emerging from several of the abandoned warehouses, and returning with more cardboard and discarded materials to throw on the front seat of the car, which is swiftly becoming engulfed in flames.
He almost too easily kicks open the doors to two more warehouses on my side. Smoke is billowing big black rolls into the sky, and he’s still not appeased. Finally, he exits one of the warehouses with two bottles in his hands, his expression intense. What are they?
My head and knees both hurt, and my temper is beginning to finally return.
The hood of the car has popped open, and he smiles, pointing the cans and squirting a liquid. Fire immediately roars from the engine. He tosses the two cans into the vehicle and then turns, stalking rapidly my way.
My stomach rolls over. I make a small sound of fear in my throat and hope he doesn’t hear it.
He wraps one hand around my bicep and pulls me to stand before yanking off his jacket. “Put this on.”
“No,” I say, my hands lifting to ward him off as I back away.
He moves toward me as if not caring, grabs me, and forces my arms into the jacket before he zips it. “You’re covered in blood. You need to at least hide that.”
I blink, finally coming awake. “I’m not going with you.”
“I don’t have time for this.” He ducks his head, tosses me over his shoulder, and breaks into a run.
My stomach protests as his movements batter against my lower abdomen. I shriek and pound the bottom of his back. This can’t be happening. The fire and the smoke are choking the entire area, and my eyes start to water.
We reach his bike. He slides on before putting me on the back and ignites the engine smoothly. “We have to get out of here,” he mutters as he swings the bike in an arc.
I numbly wrap my arms around his torso and hold on. He’s just wearing the thin T-shirt, and I can feel the taut muscles of his abs. I turn my head to the side and rest my cheek against his back, my entire body exhausted. I can’t believe he just killed three men. They were shooting at us, but we could have gotten away. I think.
We drive right by the burning car, and I close my eyes from the devastation.
An explosion echoes loudly behind us as he roars onto the main road and opens the throttle. All I can do is hold on and try not to throw up. I’ve never seen such casual violence. In fact, I hadn’t realized violence could be casual.
We ride for what has to at least be an hour.
Alexei breathes calmly beneath my hands, and I partially slide my hand up to feel over his heart. Just curious. The organ is beating steadily, not wildly. He’s as calm as if we just had a nice lunch by the river.
I can’t believe this. It’s my job to make sure he stays out of prison. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that’s exactly where he belongs. Even if this can be considered self-defense, which frankly, I’m not sure he needed to kill those men, he’s far more dangerous than I realized.
I know I’m still in shock, but there’s nothing I can do right now with his big body controlling the motorcycle. I have to plan. I’m a planner, so I try to force myself back to reality.
How can I call the police? Will that be an ethical violation? He’s my client, and the crime is already over. I have a duty to inform the police if I suspect a crime is going to be committed, not afterward. Yet I’m a witness to this one.
I open my eyes to discover we’re in a wooded area way outside of Silicon Valley. I assumed he wanted to head back into the city.
He drives around several trees on a dirt road until he reaches what looks like a small camping area near a trickling creek. He pauses near a picnic table and cuts the engine before tugging me off of the bike. My feet hit the ground, and I start to backpedal away.
He swings his leg over. “Stop.”
My body stops. I don’t know why. I need to run. Is he going to kill me, too? “I can’t say anything because I’m your lawyer,” I say, noting the key still in the bike.
“I know that.” He reaches for me, and I shrink back. A small chuckle emerges from his chest as he sticks his hand in his jacket pocket that I’m wearing and pulls out a phone. “I borrowed this from our friend along with his lighter.”
Our friend. The third man Alexei had so easily murdered.
“What are you going to do?”
He lifts the phone to his ear, waits a second, and then issues a series of what sound like orders in Russian. The words barely free of his mouth, he clicks the phone shut and tears the device apart, dropping it to the ground and stomping on it. “It’s a burner. But even still, we can’t be too careful.”
