Becoming Rain

  Like sitting ducks.

  Only a dozen cars traveled down the quiet side street all night, but each one had me ready to pull the gun tucked inside my purse—that I grabbed from my safe before we left, using the excuse of forgotten car keys.

  “Hey.” Luke sticks his hand out to hold the elevator door. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because you’ve been amazing, but . . . I need to be alone for a bit.” I’ve seen the look that now sits in Luke’s eyes many times—the vacant stare of a person who doesn’t know what to do next.

  But it’s against my direct orders. And I’m not letting him walk into his condo without making sure no one’s waiting there for him.

  “Sure, okay. Do you mind if I just go up to grab Stanley?”

  He shakes his head quickly, like he forgot about the dogs. “Yeah, of course.”

  The elevator ride up is silent, Luke leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed. No doubt exhausted. I’m exhausted, and I’m used to going a full day without sleep. Still, my mind frantically works to find a way into his condo without sounding forceful. “Hey, with everything going on, I couldn’t find where I put Stanley’s leash last night. Let me go grab it? Stanley’s less obedient in the morning for some reason. I’ll bring Licks home, too.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Luke says absently, his keys dangling from his fingers. I pull them from him with a smile, unlocking the door, giving me the advantage of walking into his condo first. Everything looks the exact same, right down to half a glass of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter and the brown Thai food take-out bag.

  I move through quickly, pretending to search for the leash—that I didn’t forget to give to Bridgette when I dropped off the dogs—with my gun hidden between my purse and my rib cage. If my behavior seems erratic, Luke doesn’t seem to notice, dropping down into his couch, his head hung, his elbows resting on his knees.

  My heart aches for him, in a way that it isn’t supposed to, in a way that isn’t allowed. I force it down to focus on the more critical matters at hand.

  “Weird. Can’t find it,” I call out when I’ve checked the last closet and can clear Luke’s condo from any crazy Russians wanting to exact more punishment. Slipping my gun back in my purse, I squeeze Luke’s shoulder. “Let me go grab the boys. I’ll be back.”

  I duck out and run down the hall, cutting chitchat with Bridgette short and forcing Licks to gallop behind me. Luke has moved into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. I can hear the shower running.

  So I quickly update Warner.

  “Sinclair made some calls. We’ve got jurisdiction on the murder now. We’re running a couple of partials from the SUV. See if that gives us anything we can use. Anything on that end? Phone calls? Visitors?” he asks.

  “Nope. Nothing.”

  “That’ll change soon. The media’s all over this now.”

  Shit. We haven’t so much as glanced at the TV since last night. Reporters can be insensitive assholes, creating ugly headlines to hype a story with little consideration for the people it impacts.

  My body is starting to ache. “Okay. I’m going to grab a bit of sleep, before I accidently shoot someone.”

  “Keep your phone by your ear. I’ve got eyes on the outside.” There’s a pause and then he asks, “What does your gut say? Do you think he’s going to spill?”

  “Too soon to tell. Right now he needs some space.” I make sure my tone leaves no room for persuasion.

  “Okay. Be ready. Once the shock wears off, these guys tend to do stupid things, and fast.”

  Not Luke. That’s just not him. But I don’t say that to Warner because he wouldn’t understand.

  I make sure every deadbolt is latched in place and then, drawing the blinds, I set my purse on the ground for easy access to my gun. Just in case. Peeling back layers until I’m left in nothing but my tank top and panties, my fingers graze the dragonfly pendant. Desperate for the day I no longer need to wear it. I know that day is coming soon. I just hope I’m strong enough to handle the aftermath.

  I set it on the coffee table and stretch out on the couch, trying to catch an hour or two of sleep.

  Sleep doesn’t come to me, though.

  My eyes are fixed to that closed door, and the eerie silence behind it. The shower stopped running long ago.

  And then I hear it. The first sob.

  It seizes my heart in an instant. I don’t know if the microphone will pick that up. It’s pretty far away. But I grab the remote and throw on one of the music channels, just loud enough to kill any possibility. He has the right to suffer in private. I think Warner would understand that, and if he doesn’t . . . fuck all of them.

  What none of them would understand is me tiptoeing from the living room to the closed door. Trying the handle, I find it unlocked. I slink in quickly, making sure not to make a sound as I shut it behind me. Daylight squeezes through the edges of the closed blinds in slits. Between that and the muted TV flashing in the corner, there’s enough light for me to see Luke’s towel-clad body lying on his bed, his back to me, one arm curled under his pillow.

  Without a word, I crawl into bed, until my chest is pressed against his back and my arm is wrapped around his waist and my hand is curled within his. And I listen to him cry softly, his tears rolling down his cheeks to slide over my fingers.

  Not until he quiets do I offer, “I’m so sorry, Luke. Really, I am.”

  A deep, ragged breath lifts and drops his chest. “Vlad killed him. Or someone for Vlad.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s all over the news. They found him in a stolen black Mercedes SUV. That’s what we were lifting for Aref to ship overseas. He has a buyer in Africa who specifically wants black SUVs.”

  “That’s what this illegal thing that you’re into is? Stolen cars?” It’s the first time he’s ever said it so blatantly.

  “Yeah. Mainly chopped cars, but some high end. Rust has an organization through Portland, Seattle, San Francisco . . . basically the Western seaboard. He rounds them up on this side and Vlad sells them to buyers overseas. We ship them in Aref’s cargo ships and we split the profits. But Vlad started dicking Rust around, claiming higher payoffs to get people to look the other way. Rust was sure he was ripping him off. Then Aref stepped in, wanting to get in on some of the money. He had a buyer lined up in Africa. So, I convinced Rust to do a separate deal with him. That’s what that was about the other night. Vlad was pissed.”

  “At you?”

  “Rust told him that the deal was all on him and that I had nothing to do with making it. To protect me, I think.”

  This, in a nutshell, is everything that we’ve been waiting to hear Luke admit.

  I hold his body tighter.

  “But what good would killing Rust do for Vlad? Don’t they need Rust for this deal you were talking about?” I have to remember to choose my words carefully, so I don’t sound like I actually know what I’m talking about.

  He rolls onto his back, and I get my first look at his tear-stained face. “That’s what I can’t figure out. Rust was the only one who knew all the levels and players and how everything worked—all the fences and wheelmen, who was lifting the cars, who was chopping them, how they were moving from location to location. I don’t see how either delivery is going to happen now that Rust is gone.”

  “Unless Vlad figured things out on his own . . .” I say, more to myself, as the mess of clues starts to make sense. A plan was in place, Elmira had said. Was that the plan? Was Vlad honing in on Rust’s protected network? Based on what Luke just told me, they were splitting half the profits. But if they removed Rust . . . “Vlad could take over and not split profits, right?” But how does Aref fit into all of this?

  I can see the wheels churning inside his head. “Yeah . . . I guess. But I don’t know how they’d figure that out. I mean, I know two of the fences, and Miller knows t
wo, but aside from dropping an order that Rust gives us and paying the fences for delivery to the warehouse, we don’t see anything but a wad of money at the end of it.”

  My ears perk up. That big, burly garage manager is a part of this too?

  “It’s not that easy to figure out. I mean, if the cops can’t do it . . .”

  Unless someone’s been doing their own surveillance on Rust. One that doesn’t require following laws and respecting privacy. I can only imagine how much easier it would be to get things done when we aren’t held back by warrants and civil rights. I mean, look at the kind of information I’ve gathered through dishonest means!

  He wipes away a stray tear still sitting on his cheek, vacant eyes locked on the ceiling above. “This just doesn’t feel real. I can’t believe he’s gone.” He shifts until an arm ropes around my shoulders and he curls into me, our noses grazing. I automatically inhale the scent of him, freshly showered and smelling of soap, his skin soft and warm against my body.

  Feeling the walls tighten around us, as Elmira’s warning screams inside my head. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try to stop this.

  “Luke?”

  Red-rimmed eyes open to meet mine.

  “Whatever you have going on with Vlad and with Aref . . . it’s over. Forget about it. Please, just walk away. I can’t lose you.” I can’t keep my own tears from unleashing, because I know that I’m going to lose him regardless. “Please. Just promise me it’s over.”

  He blinks back a fresh wave of tears. And nods, pulling me into his bare chest.

  I don’t mean to drift off in Luke’s bed.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Hey.” I feel someone shaking me awake.

  “Hmm?”

  A gentle kiss touches my temple. “Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. Do you think it’s important?”

  My phone.

  Warner.

  I bolt up in bed and sprint out of the room.

  “I’ve been trying you for an hour,” Warner says, his tone thick with accusation.

  I dart toward the small mudroom on the opposite side of the condo. “Sorry, I didn’t hear it.”

  “Really? Because I’ve been listening to it ring on the wire. It was pretty damn loud.”

  “I fell asleep,” I hiss, checking around the corner to make sure Luke hasn’t appeared yet. I doubt he’s in any rush to move.

  Dead silence answers me. Infuriating me. “Any reason you’re calling?”

  “Just checking in.”

  “I have to take the dogs out and grab a change of clothes. Watch that he doesn’t leave.” I hang up before Warner can argue with me.

  ■ ■ ■

  Licks trots through my condo, his nose to the ground, oblivious to his master’s devastation. I gave Luke one of the Ambien pills that his mom slipped into my hand as we were leaving her house, a full container from her own medicine cabinet. Hopefully it knocked him out by now.

  I didn’t like leaving him but I couldn’t risk making this call from his place, on my phone. It’s just a hunch, one that’s been bugging me, one that may sabotage this case, but it will give me the answer I need.

  “Hello.”

  The sound of that woman’s crisp London accent triggers my unease. I get the distinct impression that she knows who’s calling, even though the number is blocked on my personal phone. “Hi, Elmira.”

  “We’ve been watching the news. How is Luke doing?” Calm, cool, collected. Not the reaction I would expect after a business partner of her husband’s was found murdered.

  “As well as to be expected.”

  “Please send our condolences. Rust was a good man.”

  “I didn’t know him well, but I know he was well liked.”

  “How is Luke taking it?”

  “Not well. I feel so sorry for him. He’s had such a rough couple of weeks. First, with his car being stolen, and now this.” The two don’t even begin to compare but it doesn’t really matter, for my purposes.

  “Oh? I didn’t know that happened. I’ll bet he loved that car.”

  “Yes, he does.” I hesitate for just a moment, but then commit fully. “Luckily the cops found it in a storage locker right away.”

  There’s a short pause. “Well, that’s lucky.” Is it just me or has her voice risen an octave? I’m sure she’s weighing my words. Wondering if I have my own hidden purpose for telling her.

  But I can play the same game that she does. “Yeah. I just wish they’d release it. I don’t know why they’re not. Being assholes, I guess.”

  “Local police are lazy.”

  “Must be it.”

  There’s another long pause. “If there’s anything at all that we can do to help Luke during this time, please let us know. We’ll see you at the funeral.”

  “Thanks, Elmira.” Now that my small trap is laid, I toss the phone back into the safe, leash the dogs up, and head back to Luke’s.

  But not before I find myself standing in the rain, waiting for it to wash away the filthy feeling of my betrayal to my team.

  Chapter 49

  ■ ■ ■

  LUKE

  Rain squeezes my hand.

  It’s a warning squeeze, signaling that I’m getting too worked up.

  I take a deep breath to calm myself. When Rust told me he was making me executor to his estate a few years ago, I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. I definitely didn’t think that, at twenty-four years old, I’d be planning a closed-casket funeral for him. But now that the police have finished gathering evidence off of him—there’s no need for an extensive autopsy; it’s pretty clear that the bullet through the brain is what killed him—that’s exactly what I’m sitting here doing, with a very calm and collected Rain on my right side and the emotionally unstable duo—Mom and Ana—on my left, fighting me tooth-and-nail for a traditional Eastern Orthodox service.

  “Rust didn’t want a service of any kind, or a wake. He made that very clear in his will. Which I spent all morning going through with the lawyer,” I say, tempering my tone. Rust never had much patience for the funeral process and he sure didn’t believe in God.

  “But what about what we want? What his mother and father would want?” my mom cries, rubbing away the fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “If we go by those stupid papers, well . . . why don’t we just toss his body into the family vault!”

  Reading between the lines, he’s basically asking for just that. But I don’t say that now.

  “Are you going to keep fighting me on this? Or can we just move on with the arrangements?” Because I just want this to be over with.

  “We can arrange for a lovely—and quick—service at the burial site for you that may help serve everyone’s needs while respecting Mr. Markov’s wishes,” the funeral director offers with a sympathetic smile. It’s the same smile she’s worn for the past hour, relieving it only with well-timed frowns or closed-eye nods to convey her deepest understanding. I wonder if these people are born with funeral worker genes or if they take extensive schooling for it, because everyone we’ve walked past on our way into this office is the exact same.

  Rain’s ringer is off but I can hear her phone vibrating in her pocket. It’s been vibrating nonstop since we sat down in here but she hasn’t so much as pulled it out. I lean over. “You can take that if you need to. It could be about your dad.” With everything else going on, I haven’t even asked her what’s happening with him and she hasn’t mentioned it.

  She frowns. “Yeah, I probably should. If you’re okay here?”

  “What else do we need to do?” I ask the funeral director.

  She lays a catalogue out in front of us with utmost care. “Well, there is the matter of choosing a casket, writing the obituary . . .”

  Her words drift off as I turn back to Rain. “We can handle this.”

/>   She pats my leg and then stands. “Okay, I’ll just be outside.”

  I watch her walk out, feeling immediately lonely. She’s been by my side—watching reruns of my stupid favorite shows, feeding me, walking the dogs with me, lying next to me while I fall asleep—since the cops first showed up at my door. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  Chapter 50

  ■ ■ ■

  CLARA

  “This is creepy. And disrespectful,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder at the casket on the other side of the room, an elderly man lying peacefully within.

  “Why? He doesn’t care. His visitation doesn’t start until tonight.” Warner holds a finger to his lip, checking for blood. I was halfway down the hall, passing a row of viewing rooms, when an arm shot out and grabbed me. I threw a fist out and connected with flesh before I realized it was my handler who was abducting me.

  “You’re insane. Have you been waiting here all this time? I was just about to call you. Way safer than this.”

  “Relax. I can explain my way out of anything,” he mutters. “And I honestly don’t know what’s safe anymore. I feel like there are more eyes on us than we know about.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Warner reaches up, his hand grazing my chest as he grasps my necklace, switching the wire off. “Our decoy Porsche got dropped off on the side of the road last night. Wiped clean and abandoned.”

  Last night. Only hours after my phone call with Elmira. A mix of satisfaction and guilt stir inside me with the proof that my hunch paid off. Aref set that car theft up and staged it to look like Vlad was behind it, should the thief get busted and questioned. I have my guesses as to why.

  Maybe I’ll still have my chance to ask him myself.

  But for now, I have to look disappointed for Warner’s sake. “Do you think someone tipped them off? Or did they find the bugs?”

  Warner shrugs. “Hard to say. We knew it was risky to begin with. But it means we’ve lost that lead. At least we got a few names and locations out of it, though.” He clamps up as low voices pass by in the hall. “There’s more.” Turning, he levels me with a hard stare.