* * *
I didn’t say a word as we traveled to our next stop. A woman’s scream pierced the night and I imagined Joe’s mistress kneeling at his side and sobbing inconsolably. I wondered what she made of these events. If she imagined herself mad—hearing voices that instructed her to hide and then emerging from the bathroom to find her slain lover. Whom would she turn to? The police? If she had any sense at all, she’d run far from the scene of the crime and let some other unfortunate soul discover Joe’s body. But I couldn’t worry about what would happen to her from this moment on. I’d done my part—what happened next in her life was up to her.
We traveled to Capitol Hill, a lavish neighborhood built by some of the area’s most wealthy businessmen and industrialists. Azriel had wanted to buy a home here once, but instead humored my desire to live away from the elitist community. It reminded me too much of unpleasant memories from my human life, and I wanted to sever all ties with those who found merit in others simply by the numbers in their bank registers.
Vasili Ergorov’s home stood out on the street, tall, wide, and imposing. It was just like a gangster to flaunt his wealth, I supposed, and Vasili obviously wanted his peers to take notice. We passed from shadow to our corporeal forms just before the driveway, and I trailed behind as Azriel strode up to the door like he owned the place. We entered the foyer, only to be met by four angry looking guys carrying Smith and Wesson revolvers. Azriel smiled pleasantly as he handed his dagger over into their care and allowed them to pat his body from head to toe. It was when they turned their attention to me that Ergorov’s men met a less-than-amicable Azriel.
“Lay a finger on my . . . associate, and I’ll rip your arms from your sockets.”
“We ain’t lettin’ you another foot closer to our boss till we know you’re both clean.” The guy who spoke must have been Ergorov’s head . . . what? Bodyguard? Strong arm? Minion?
“He’s clean,” Azriel said. “You can take my word for it.”
“Yeah, right.” The head minion snorted and then moved toward me.
I instinctively stiffened, determined not to look afraid. I tucked my chin closer to my chest so that my face would be shadowed by the brim of the fedora I wore. I didn’t want their hands all over me. It wouldn’t take much of a groping for Ergorov’s men to discover the womanly curves hidden beneath the overcoat and suit jacket. And Azriel knew that it would cause us both a world of trouble if they found me out.
“Jesus Christ, Charlie!” A thickly accented voice boomed from the second story. “Azriel wouldn’t pull a fast one. Not on us.”
The minion pulled away, giving me a steely-eyed appraisal before moving out of the way. Azriel jerked his chin toward the staircase, and I tucked my hands in my coat as I climbed the stairs toward the voice on the second story landing.
Azriel trailed behind me, but not so close as to arouse suspicion. The man who waited for us at the top of the stairs looked much too young to be an ambitious crime boss with scores of goons at his disposal. My surreptitious appraisal revealed a kid no older than maybe twenty, with olive skin, sparkling black eyes, and an open, friendly smile that seemed a contradiction to our very presence in his house.
“Lorik,” Azriel said, shaking the young man’s hand. “I take it your father is indisposed?”
Ah, the prodigal son, no doubt. Lorik laughed, the sound just as open and jovial as his smile. He clapped Azriel on the back and led us down the hall. “You know him, too busy—and too important—to sit down for any kind of meeting.”
Lorik opened a set of French doors that led to a library. He ushered us in and shut the doors behind him before taking a seat behind a Louis XVI desk. Leaning back in his chair, he appeared not to have a care in the world. But beneath that calm façade was a shrewd calculation. He all but ignored Azriel as his eagle gaze had settled on something of interest.
Namely, me.
“No wonder you didn’t want her frisked.” He reached in a deep drawer and produced a bottle of Canadian whiskey and three glasses.
“Her?” Azriel repeated, his tone caustic.
I stepped further into the shadows, somehow hoping that they’d protect me. I had no idea what Lorik made of the situation, or if he suspected us of something. No one would believe that I was simply Azriel’s apprentice. Or that he’d insisted on dressing me as a man for my own protection. When you kept the company of criminals, everything you did was suspect. As far as being in danger, we had nothing to worry about. Neither Lorik nor his father could do any real harm to us. But I was sure Azriel didn’t want anything to get in the way of his blossoming business relationship with the Armenian.
“She’s a looker.” Lorik raised his glass to me in a silent toast. “I’d keep her nice and covered up too, especially in the company of bastards like us.” Lorik filled a glass for Azriel and pushed it toward him. He took the offering with a scowl and drained the glass in one swallow before handing it back for a refill. “Ah, don’t feel bad my friend. To a less discerning eye, the illusion is acceptable.”
“Let’s get down to business,” Azriel said, without responding to anything Lorik had just said. “It’s late, and I’m tired.”
“My father will want proof.” Lorik’s tone had changed. No longer booming with amusement, but dark and serious. “Not that you’re untrustworthy, of course.”
“Of course.” Azriel’s tone dripped with sarcasm. From his pocket, he produced the ring he’d taken off of Joe’s finger. He tossed it to Lorik, who caught it in a quick, fluid motion. He turned the ring over in his hand as he inspected it and then pulled a handkerchief out of his coat to wipe Joe’s still-fresh blood from his palm.
“A little messy, no?”
Azriel shrugged in response. “Dead is dead. What do you or your father care how the job gets done?”
Lorik laughed, once again lighthearted. He reached into another drawer and produced a thick envelope which he tossed to Azriel in much the same fashion he’d delivered the ring. “I have a feeling you’re going to be worth your exorbitant price,” he said. “My father will be pleased.”
Azriel tucked the envelope inside his jacket and drained his glass, placing it back on the desk. “I’m more than worth it. Give Vasili my regards.” He moved toward the door, pausing only long enough for me to step out in front of him.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion before you run off?” Lorik asked as if disappointed.
Azriel turned to face him, and I paused just outside the door. “Not tonight, Lorik.”
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Azriel.” Lorik’s voice seemed to follow us out of the room and into the hallway. “And please, bring her with you the next time you come around!”
No one but I could hear Azriel’s murmured response, “Don’t count on it.”
I pretended not to hear, but as we walked out the door, Azriel gave me a sidelong gaze. “This was a bad idea, Darian. Too risky. We can’t afford to invite scrutiny of any kind. I won’t take you out with me again.”
Chapter 9
For the next two nights, I felt a restlessness I’d never experienced before. My skin seemed stretched tight, the rooms of our apartment closed in on me, too small. And the air weighed down, almost too heavy to breathe.
I couldn’t get the image of Joe’s girlfriend out of my mind––the fear in her eyes as I whispered in her ear, the nervous trepidation as she’d done what I’d told her to do. And though I knew I’d done my part, I couldn’t help but wonder what had become of her. Would she find a new sugar-daddy? A man more dangerous than Joe? And would she be spared again if caught by her lover’s enemies?