“You heard the woman,” Vero said, snapping her free fingers at Steven. “She wants coffee, and I don’t smell any brewing in here, so why don’t you go make yourself useful while I get the kids dressed and pack up their things?”
A vein bulged in his temple as Vero took the children upstairs. He dragged me into the kitchen while she herded them into their rooms. “You mind telling me what the hell is going on? And what’sshedoing here?”
“The police academy shut down a day early, so we came straight here to pick up the kids.”
“I know that, Finn. It’s been all over the news. Does this have anything to do with Zhirov?”
“Yes,” I said frankly, removing his hand from my arm and searching his cabinets for coffee filters. “Feliks showed up at the training center last night looking for someone. He shot Nick’s partner and started a fire. Don’t worry,” I said before Steven could ask, “he wasn’t there looking for me.” That was only partly true.
Steven slunk to the window and peered between the curtains as if he expected to see Feliks lurking in his shrubbery. “Whose car is that?”
I poured a carafe of water into the pot and switched it on. “It’s a loaner. Vero borrowed it from her cousin’s garage. I’ll take the kids’ car seats from your truck. What?” I asked at his indignant look. “You’re not going to need them.”
“Where’s the minivan?”
“At my place.”
“Why didn’t you bring it?”
“Because the garage was closer to your house and it made more sense to come straight here,” I said, pulling two mugs down from a cabinet.
“Or because Zhirov’s loose and you didn’t want to go home?” Steven pushed the cabinet shut when I didn’t answer. He leaned in to my space. “You’re scared of him, aren’t you?” he asked, hovering over my shoulder as I turned to the fridge. “That’s what all this is about? You’re scared Zhirov will come after you.”
“I have no reason to think that.” I hid my face from him as I rummaged for the milk. “Feliks isn’t even in the country anymore. The FBI says he was spotted in Brazil. We have nothing to worry about.” I weaved around him, carrying the carton back to the coffeepot. “As soon as the kids are dressed and ready, Vero and I will take them and go.”
“The hell you will! You’re not going anywhere as long as that psycho is out there! You and the kids can stay here with me. Andshe,” he said, stabbing a finger at the ceiling, presumably toward the children’s bedrooms, where Vero was hopefully packing their bags, “can drive that car back to her cousin’s garage and stay with him.”
“I’m not staying here,” I said, pouring two cups of coffee and splashing a heavy pour of milk into both. “And Vero’s not staying at her cousin’s.” I dumped a spoonful of sugar into the second mug as Steven reached for it.
“What are you doing?” he asked, pulling a face. “You know I don’t take sugar in my coffee.”
“It’s Vero’s,” I said, snatching it away from him. “And we’re not staying at home. It’s been a stressful week and we both need a getaway.”
“Getaway where?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking the Jersey Shore. Maybe Atlantic City.”
“In the middle of the winter? Isn’t it a little cold for the beach?”
I shrugged.
“Fine,” he said, reaching over my shoulder and pulling a travel mug from the cabinet, “then I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t come with us. It’s a girls’ trip.”
“And you can’t take our kids out of state without my permission.”
“Says who?”
“Says my attorney.”
“When did he say that?”
“In the fine print of our custody agreement. Which you signed, by the way, so don’t get any ideas about sneaking off to New Jersey without me.”
We glared at each other over the rims of our mugs. His lip curled in triumph around a long, slow sip.
“Fine,” I said, calling his bluff. “We’re leaving as soon as Vero and the kids are ready. If you’re not packed by then, don’t expect me to wait for you.”
