Becoming Rain

“Take his place where?” Her pleading eyes rise to take me in.

“At RMT. Doing something that’s not going to put a bullet in my head. That’s all, I promise.” I’m still upright and breathing, with no sign of Vlad, so I have to think he’s not too worried about what I could possibly say. But what kind of future is this? If Rust’s death did anything, it served as a wake-up call. Maybe Vlad is right—I am an idiot, because I got myself involved in a multi-million-dollar car theft ring with the fucking Russian mob and I didn’t see this coming.

I don’t want to live the rest of my days worrying that I may piss someone off and end up dead. What kind of life is that? A hundred Porsches don’t make it worthwhile.

“That, or you could just take the money and start over. Clean,” Rain suggests.

“Yeah.” Whatever it is, it won’t be anything to do with stealing cars. “Let’s do this.” I nod toward the garage and then slide out of the car. It’s the first time I’ve been here since Rust died.

Was murdered.

“Luke.” Tabbs is the first to walk up to me, offering a clean hand and a rare, somber expression. “If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”

I nod, afraid my voice will give away my grief. “Is Miller inside?”

“Yup. He’s been pretty much holed up in there.”

I find Miller sitting behind his desk, staring at his lap. When he finally looks up and notices us standing there, he’s on his feet instantly, coming around the desk to offer me his hand.

“Luke, I . . .” He clears his throat. He looks even worse now than he did after his short hospital stay a few weeks ago. He may even have lost weight. His face looks gaunt. “I’m sorry about Rust. He . . .” He bows his head. “He was always good to me.”

“For what it’s worth, he always spoke highly of you. He trusted you unequivocally.”

“I’ll . . . uh . . . I’ll take care of things around here. Don’t worry about any of that.”

There’s just no way I’m ready to come back here. “Thank you. I just . . .” I exhale heavily, sliding my hands into my pockets. Looking at the wall across from me, where an array of recognitions and business awards for the garage hang, including one of a smiling Rust shaking hands with the mayor of Portland after winning an area consumer award, a lump fills my throat. He was so proud of this business. He took pride in all his ventures, legal and otherwise. Everything he touched was successful. Until now.

“It’s hard, Miller. I’m still waiting for it to really hit me. But don’t worry. You’ll always have a job here while I own this place.”

He clears his throat again, his voice turning rough. “You can count on me.” Then he storms past us, out the door and down the hall, rubbing at his cheek as he disappears into the restroom.

I feel Rain sidle up to my back, her arms roping around my waist to give me a hug. “Were they close?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Miller’s been running this place since it opened.” My phone’s ringing, pulling me away from thoughts of Miller.

It’s the police. My car is finally being released.

I’d let them keep it if only I could have Rust back.

Chapter 52

CLARA

“Security just let through a delivery guy with more flowers,” Luke says, dropping his house phone on the counter, taking in the floral jungle that’s sprouted in here. Bouquets from Luke’s business partners, Dmitri, other family friends.

Nothing from Vlad or Andrei. Not a word. That both comforts and worries me.

Luke rubs his eyes, tired from a day of running around and drug-induced sleep.

I rub his back affectionately. “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you go and jump in the shower? It’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah . . .” His gaze drifts over my body, and I see a sudden spark of interest. It’s the first one I’ve seen in days, which, up until this morning, was a saving grace.

Back when I thought that this little affair of ours was a secret.

I can’t believe Warner knows. And Sinclair. And maybe the rest of my cover team. Here I was, thinking I’ve been careful and covert all this time.

He reaches up to tug at the hem of my shirt. Tugging me toward the bedroom.

Keep doing what you’re doing, Warner told me. Orders from the top. I wonder if I’m going to get burned for it at the end. Will this be the last case I ever work on? Has Sinclair written me off?

I can’t think about that right now, though. I need to focus on keeping Luke safe.

“Go ahead.” I nod toward his bedroom. “I’ll wait for them to bring the flowers up.”

I listen for the sound of the running water, and then I quickly text Warner to confirm that there is in fact a real delivery truck outside.

There’s been no indication that Vlad is looking to get rid of Luke too, and pulling my gun out to receive flowers is probably an overreaction on my part. But I get it out anyway, tucking it into the back of my pants as I wait by the door.

The knock comes within minutes.

I open the door to a young, brunette woman with a clipboard for me to sign. I do a quick appraisal and decide she’s simply here to deliver flowers. “Here you go,” she says, handing me an exotic arrangement of black orchids.

I don’t have to read the card to know who these flowers are from. They have Elmira written all over them. And, because they do, I start picking through the leaves and stems, searching the entire bouquet for anything suspicious.