The driver’s door opened and a man got out. A ball cap was pulled low over his forehead but stray sandy-blond hair peeked out under the sides. From what Roman could see he had on a long-sleeved, brown shirt. Sunglasses covered his eyes, hiding a good portion of his face, as he looked around, scanning the property. He stepped out from around the protection of the SUV, rounding the front of it.
Keeping his weapon lowered, Roman stood, using the Pinto as a barrier. “Who are you?”
The man tensed, but didn’t make any sudden moves as he zeroed in on Roman. “I’m looking for Vadim. You him?”
Vadim didn’t give many people his address. Hell, Roman was pretty sure he even had packages delivered to his office at The Serafina. So a stranger shouldn’t have it. “How’d you get this address?”
The man took a slight step back toward the driver’s door. It was subtle, but Roman noted it.
“Get off this property before I call the police,” he continued when the man didn’t move.
The man’s body language changed, the nuances small but Roman watched as he stilled, his body taut. He didn’t like pinning his weapon on anyone, but his gut told him it was necessary. He lifted his arm, aiming it at the guy’s center mass. “I won’t tell you again. Get the fuck out of here. Now.”
The man paused once before hurrying to the driver’s door. Roman kept his weapon trained on him the entire time. The engine was still running so the driver got in and reversed. As he did, he turned the vehicle back so that the driver’s side faced Roman. The sunlight glinted off the windshield, making him flinch.
He took a step to the side, back toward the garage to avoid being blinded, when he saw that the driver’s side window was down. He couldn’t see a weapon and wasn’t going to open fire on someone without just cause. But instinct had him taking cover behind the car.
Pop. Pop.
Two thunking sounds on the garage door spurred him into action. Rolling under the door, he shifted so that the position of the Pinto gave him cover. Standing, he slammed the garage door down. The sound of screeching tires told him the guy was leaving. But for how long? And did he have backup? Roman wasn’t sticking around like a sitting duck waiting to find out. He’d call the cops but only as soon as he got Taylor away from here and to the hospital. Racing toward the utility room, he hurried inside.
Taylor started to swing a broom handle at him, but froze with the end of it in midair, her arm dropping to her side. Her blue eyes were wide as she scanned him, likely for wounds. “Are you okay? What happened?”
He hooked his hand under her elbow and steered her into the kitchen. “Man who said he was looking for Vadim shot at me before racing off. Sandy-blond hair, medium build, maybe five-eleven. Driving a black SUV. Ring any bells?”
She bit her bottom lip as she moved with him, clutching the broom tightly in her hand. “Maybe. Gordon Simpson is the man I saw at the police station. He’s got blond hair, but it’s pretty light. And I don’t know how tall he is. Taller than me.”
He snorted. “Most people are probably taller than you.”
To his surprise, she laughed, the musical quality of it taking him off guard. “True.”
“Grab all your blood-stained clothes and anything you need to take with you. We’re not coming back here,” he informed her, gently pushing her toward the bedroom as he made his way to the foyer.
Vadim’s house was all glass, wood and high ceilings with exposed beams. Roman knew he had a special film over his windows that made it difficult to see inside. The foyer was one of the best vantage points because of the long, slim windows on the sides of the front door. So Roman surveyed the front yard, driveway, and all he saw was dust kicking up in the distance where the SUV had fled.
There was a risk leaving with Taylor, but it was calculated. Because if they stayed, they had a higher chance of being attacked. Roman knew there was a definite potential for an ambush as they left the property but he didn’t think it would happen. A single man had shown up, obviously not expecting Roman to be here and ready for him. No, the guy would be leaving and regrouping and possibly getting more backup. Roman didn’t want to stay here and find out. There were just too many unknowns at this point. He turned away front the window at the sound of Taylor approaching.
“I’ve got it all.” She lifted two plastic bags of her things.
He nodded. Normally he’d take a woman’s bags for her, but he wasn’t putting his weapon down. “We’re going to leave with you driving my truck and I’m going to follow you in the Pinto. Once we reach the end of Vadim’s driveway,”—which was a mile long—“we’re going to head east. There’s a gas station about three-quarters of a mile down the road. We’re going to leave the Pinto there and take my truck to the hospital.” His truck had bullet-resistant windows so he knew she’d be safe inside. And he was armed and had taken multiple defensive driving courses so he wasn’t worried about himself.