Her Rogue Russian(33)

 

So, that's what he was thinking. You make me sick, Andrews, she wanted to say. Scratch that-she wanted to pluck her pen off her desk, uncap it, and hurl it with ninja-like precision right at his hairless, arrogant face. Whatever side of the law they happened to be born on, human lives weren't to be trifled with like this. She wore a badge for a reason, and so did he, God damn it. Maybe she wasn't the one who had lost sight of what that meant after all.

 

"Any idea where I might find my man? Sorry-your man?" he asked her.

 

"More than an idea." Savannah rose and snatched up her navy-blue field coat. No way in hell she was letting a shark like Tom Andrews bring Maxim in without her. She was going to oversee every single detail of the arrest and ensure that nothing suspicious occurred on their end.

 

Never thought I would be watching my own people this closely, she reflected as they exited for the garage and piled into the squad car. She could only hope Maxim would forgive her for whatever she was about to do.

 

 

 

The only right way to get out from underneath a woman was to get under a bike, so far as Maxim was concerned.

 

At least, that was how it used to work. He might not have believed it a year ago, but his pre-Savannah world had been much simpler. Now it wasn't just his own family out to get him, but the woman he cared for the most. She had snuck him out of a crime scene, sure, but he knew it was only a matter of time before her sense of justice got the better of her and she came for him. What else was there for her to do but bring him in?

 

And he wouldn't blame her, he decided as he wiped his hands clean on his jeans and rolled out from underneath the Ural's sidecar. Travis, perhaps sensing his best and only employee's distracted state of mind, had tasked him with a fairly simple attachment procedure today. Unfortunately for them both, Maxim had still managed to complete it in record time, and now had to look elsewhere for work. He stood up and wiped the oil rag down the door of the car. Out back, he could hear Rebecca's light-hearted laugh bubble up as she stole a moment away from the desk with Travis.

 

Maxim gazed at the Ural blandly. He moved away from it eventually to plumb the depths of the fridge and came away with a Budweiser; he sighed, popping it open beneath the work bench and leaning back to consider his work. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a tentative sip, before drawing it away again with a wince. The beer was flat and tasted about as terrible as it looked. He tried to distract himself from thoughts of the bloody room, the bent and broken body, with thoughts of Savannah, but it only made him feel a million times worse. He imagined her reaction to him suggesting she ride in the sidecar and they take the town together, and a ghost of a smile threatened to haunt the severe line of his lips. He wondered again what his father would think of his prodigal son's born-again choice in women. Savannah and Sergey would not have gotten along, he decided, as he turned back to the open front of the garage.

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

Savannah Casillero stood in the open mouth of the garage, looking more beautiful than she had a right to. Her multicolored hair was down, framing a naturally radiant face devoid of makeup. She was wearing a thick windbreaker several sizes too large, but it only served to make her look more petite than she already was.

 

Maxim blinked. He set his beer down. "Didn't expect to see you again any time soon," he admitted.

 

"Maxim." He disliked the way she said his name just then. Her voice sounded like it was strung too tight, like she was bypassing what she really wanted to say to him and keeping the truth lodged in her throat.

 

"You're not here to ask for another date," he guessed. Savannah's eyes shifted to the side, and Maxim craned to look past her shoulder out toward the lot. He saw a car idling behind her; he hadn't heard it pull up over the noise blaring from the stereo. He reached across the bench to dial it down as Savannah took a step further into the garage.

 

"It's Andrews. Someone called in a tip to the FBI, and he has orders to bring you in."

 

"His orders are your orders," Maxim said. Savannah winced at his words, and it almost looked like she would have pulled a face then, if the situation wasn't so serious.

 

"I... chose to ride along with him today. And I convinced him to let me have a word with you alone," she added. "I told him I'd be able to talk you into coming in peacefully. I didn't realize you'd be drinking, of course. You can finish your beer if you want." Savannah winced again. "You're drinking Budweiser. I take it back. Get on the ground, I'm taking you by excessive force."