The giant Russian didn’t back down, not from Roxanne and not from Maggie either when she slipped from Anatoly’s grip. “We have business to discuss, Miss Fierro,” he said, addressing Roxanne and ignoring Maggie’s approach entirely.
“Is there a problem here?” Maggie interjected as she reached out to put a hand on Roxanne’s arm. She meant to signal she could handle it, but the other woman shrugged her away.
“There is no problem, Mr. Markov was just leaving,” Roxanne insisted.
Markov however, growled, at them both. “Detective Boone, you are becoming quite the thorn in my side.”
A flash of surprise crossed Roxanne’s beautiful visage until it was replaced with understanding. “Ah, you two know each other as well. For such a large municipality, Anchorage is still a small world is it not? Regardless, I must once again ask you to leave, Mr. Markov. I have made it clear this is not a good time for any discussion. I am teaching a class.”
By this point, Anatoly had joined them as well and was standing behind Maggie protectively. She could feel him there, ready to defend her, and all it did was bolster her courage.
“I’d like a few words with you, Markov. Outside,” she insisted.
Markov narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two women before he finally settled his gaze on Anatoly. Whatever he said in Russian, Maggie could feel the vampire stiffen at her back and he snapped a reply almost as quickly, his hand moving to her shoulder as if the gesture were meant to ward off violent criminal werewolves.
Except Markov noticed it too and a dark smirk played over his thin lips.
“I see you are no longer wearing your priestly vestments, Mr. Brusilev. What a shame…” His tone was mocking and Maggie almost lost her temper. Were it not for Anatoly’s touch and her years on the police force, she very well would have slugged the man in the face.
“Enough of this.” Roxanne sounded cross for the first time since Markov had walked in. “I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Markov. Please, leave. And Detective, if you go with him, don’t bother returning to class.”
With that, she spun gracefully on her heel and strutted back to the dance floor. She clapped her hands together, drawing the other students away from the scene at the door. “Come, come, break time is over, let us resume our lesson!”
Everything in Maggie wanted nothing more than to press her case, but as Markov stomped from the studio, his goons doggedly following behind him, she remained rooted in place.
Her opportunity to question him was falling to pieces and yet she couldn’t bring herself to follow after him. Not when Anatoly had gone to such lengths to make her birthday special.
The vampire didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He stood resolutely at her back, his hand dropping away as if to free her to make a decision, but Maggie’s heart won out over her sense of duty.
Several minutes after the class had already begun their work on the waltz, Maggie finally turned to face Anatoly. She knew her conflicted feelings were written all over her face, but she still reached for his hand and stepped toward the dance floor to join the others.
Words failed her and the light mood that had settled over the pair was gone even as they resumed their place together with the rest of the class.
“I’m very glad you could join us,” Roxanne called to them, then moved over to them and in a hushed voice added, “You made the right decision. That beast is not worth the hunt. Now, take up position…”
In a daze, Maggie did as she was told. She couldn’t look up into Anatoly’s eyes, so she focused on the buttons of his shirt instead. They danced in silence, going through the motions as though someone had just died.
“Are you angry with me?” Maggie finally asked Anatoly, still afraid to look at his face.
“Nyet,” he answered, sounding surprised. “Are you angry with me?” he parroted the question, but she could hear the unease in his voice.
Maggie shook her head. When she could take it no longer, she glanced up at him and saw only concern. “I’m sorry, I ruined everything.”
“Nyet,” he said again, his voice low and soothing. The hand resting on the small of her back drew her closer until their bodies were touching. “Nothing is ruined, Maggie. We will get warrant and speak to him again, do not worry. Plan is still in place.”
Maggie let out a ragged sigh and tightened her grip on his arm. She melted into him like butter on a hot day, taking reassurance from his proximity. “Thank you, Anatoly. I swear to you we’re going to catch Father Abrams’s killer before the case goes cold. We’re getting close, I know it.”
His smile was gentle and he nodded. “I have utmost faith in you, Maggie.”
The words were exactly what she needed to hear. She let out a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders melting away.
Never before had she made that promise to a living person, but this was not an ordinary situation. She’d never set out to fall in love with Anatoly and yet here she was, dancing in his arms to the slow, almost melancholic, classical music.
The mood of the night had changed, but her feelings hadn’t. She was every bit as dedicated to the case, but she had also come to be dedicated to him as well.
Perhaps her split loyalties would get her into trouble sooner or later, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that Markov had seen them together or what the consequences of that might be. All that mattered was Anatoly and figuring out who had killed Father Abrams and Jean Thomas.
Chapter Forty
