She could’ve kissed the cop who’d known Danil’s phone number when she’d mentioned his name. She had no idea who else she could’ve called at that point.
Still, Danil said nothing. Dora found herself talking to fill the silence.
“Like I said, I’m really grateful. I told them they didn’t have to call you in the middle of the night. I was happy to wait until morning. And I didn’t expect you to come all the way out here so early, you know?”
He looked at her as if he were carved out of stone.
Okay. He was a real tough cookie apparently. Although cookie was the wrong word. There was nothing sugary about this man. He was more like granite. Or a thick strip of leather. Well, she must really be sleep-deprived because even her thoughts were rambling.
“Why are you standing at my car?” he finally said, biting off the words as if they tasted bad.
“Oh,” Dora laughed quickly, realizing that she hadn’t been clear. “I need a ride to my car.”
Danil muttered something in what Dora assumed was Belarusian, as he cast his eyes toward the sky. She pursed her lips. She didn’t want to grin and press her luck here, but the whole angry Belarusian thing was really frickin’ cute. Especially when he was in a rumpled t-shirt and jeans. He was even more attractive all casual than he had been in his suit.
He didn’t say anything more, simply unlocked his car and got in. Dora dove in as well, thinking that if she didn’t move fast enough, he might damn well leave without her.
She told him where her car was and he slanted a strange look at her. They were silent for most of the drive, his hands tight on the wheel. He shifted in the seat, apparently unable to keep silent.
“You are journalist,” he said, his accent thicker than she’d heard from him before. He cleared his throat. “You are a journalist,” he corrected himself.
Dora said nothing, just raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t seem to notice. Or care. He tumbled on. “But you’re not affiliated with any paper right now. You’re famous for investigating. For uncovering corruption. You were the one who exposed the CEOs who were extorting their undocumented household workers. But you haven’t written anything in a few years. Your real name is Pandora. Like the box. The curious woman who opened the box.”
Dora ignored the pinch in her gut. She hadn’t written anything in four years. Since her dad died. She swallowed against the sharp pain that those thoughts always rode in on.
She put a smile on her face. One that she knew softened men right up. “Well, somebody had themselves a little party on Google last night.”
Apparently Danil Malashovik was immune to the smile. He stared blandly back at her.
“So. You’re investigating something now. In Spokane.” It wasn’t a question. He pulled up behind her rental car which she’d parked in a stand of trees off a lonely highway about a mile from the site she’d investigated last night.
Dora shrugged, nonchalant. “Like I said. I just moved here. I’m just getting the lay of the land. I like to get to know my neighborhood.”
“You’ve been arrested for trespassing three times in two days,” he said blandly. “You’re terrible at exploring your neighborhood.”
Dora pursed her lips again. “Must be.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “Anyways, thanks for everything. The bail and the ride. Let me just grab my checkbook and we’ll be even-steven.”
She had her hand on the door handle when she felt his on her shoulder. His palm was warm and unexpectedly calloused for a lawyer. She had her suspicions that he wasn’t just a lawyer, though she wasn’t thinking about that now. She was thinking about his warm, gold-brown eyes that were currently lit sideways by the rising sun. His face, harsh and handsome, was more serious than she’d ever seen it.
“Pandora, why was I your phone call?”
Huh. The real question was why didn’t she want to answer that question? She cleared her throat, shot for an easy-breezy voice. “You’re the only person I know in Spokane.”
It was the truth, of course. But there was a touch more vulnerability in her voice than Dora would have liked to hear from herself. She wasn’t lonely. She liked her lone wolf life. But as she sat across from this man, his morning pine scent filling the car, something was creeping in at the edges that she hadn’t even known was there.
Her words had him narrowing his eyes. Dora guessed that he was probably weighing the truth in what she said, whether or not he could trust it. And then he was speaking in Belarusian. Cursing from the sound of it. He blew out a long breath. Suddenly, Dora was very aware of just how much of the car he took up. Damn near three quarters. Was it just her or was there suddenly less air in the world than there had been ten minutes ago?