Ivan(28)

In the hallway, we ran into Dimitri. Ivan spoke to him in Russian. For the first time since I'd met him, the fact that I couldn’t understand what he was saying really annoyed me. I decided then and there that Vivi was going to have to tutor me in Russian as soon as possible.

As we followed Dimitri downstairs, I asked, "What are we doing?"

"You and I are going to get into my car and drive to a hotel."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm certain we were followed by the police," he said, his voice so low I barely heard him. "They may think Ruby has told you where the drugs and money are hidden. It would be a huge win for them."

"Why don't we just tell them?" I wanted out of this gang war mess as quickly as possible.

Ivan frowned at me. In that moment, I realized how silly and naïve I must have seemed to him. "Erin, the Albanians have already killed Andrei to settle their blood debt but the Hermanos? They're still out there."

"So you want to trade whatever we find for Ruby's safety?"

"For your safety," he said and tugged me along beside him.

Within five minutes, I was buckled into the front seat of his black sports car. He raced away from his home in one direction while Dimitri went one way in his truck and Kostya took a different route in an SUV. The covert nature of Ivan's plane made my stomach ache.

"Are you all right?" He glanced over at me as he wound in and out of the late night traffic.

I rubbed my belly and grimaced. "I'm not used to this constant anxiety. I think I'm getting an ulcer."

"I doubt it, angel moy." He squeezed my thigh. "You've shown such bravery. I'm impressed."

Considering the kind of life he'd lived, I figured that was quite a compliment. "Thanks, I guess."

Ivan laughed and turned into a parking garage behind one of the upscale boutique hotels downtown. I thought it an odd destination until he addressed the guy running the private parking garage. Their quick conversation in Ivan's mother tongue and the mention of Dimitri's name helped me understand. This was just part of the ruse.

He reached into the console between our seats where he'd dropped his wallet before we left the house. My eyes widened when he withdrew a handful of crisp hundred dollar bills and thrust them into the parking attendant's hand. The man handed him a time-stamped ticket and hit the button to raise the black-and-white striped bar.

As Ivan drove up the many levels of the garage, it occurred to me that he still hadn't told me how he'd made all his money. "Is your money blood money?"

He visibly stiffened. I chewed my lower lip as nervousness swept through me. He found an empty spot on the fourth level and parked. After killing the engine, he let his hands drop from the wheel. He turned to face me. His expression was one I couldn't place.

"You must think the worst of me."

I gulped. "I don't really know what I think, Ivan. You have all those tattoos and you're obviously very comfortable in the underworld. Yesterday when I tried to ask you about your wealth, you shot me down."

"Time shares."

I blinked. "What?"

"Time shares," he repeated. "I made the bulk of my wealth in time shares."

I tried to wrap my head around what he'd said. "But—"

"Look, I'm no choir boy, Erin. I've done some terrible things. I've stolen. I've burglarized. I've enforced for loan sharks. I've moved drug shipments and run weapons. There was a time when I would do anything if the price was right."

The shame filling his voice touched me in a way I couldn't quite explain. I reached for his hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No." He kissed my knuckles. "You have every right to know what kind of person I am."

"I think the man I know is a good man. God, what you've done for me, Ivan."

"It wasn't without ulterior motives," he replied honestly. "From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. Saving your sister was the easiest way for me to keep you near." He held my gaze. "I swear to you that I have never once committed any sort of crime against women. I've never dealt in the skin trade. I've never killed anyone. I'm no murderer and no rapist but I was a thief and a violent man."

"You've been in prison." It wasn't a question. Some of the tattoos he had looked like prison work with their uneven lines and strange blue tint.

"Three times," he admitted. His shamed gaze dropped to his lap. "I did my time, Erin. I paid for my crimes."

"And then what? You came to Houston and started over?"

He nodded. "Nikolai was leaving. The three of us—me, Nikolai and Dimitri—we had money. It cost so much to buy a new life but we managed it." He hesitated. "I won't sit here and lie to you about the way my life started in Houston. I dealt in stolen goods and bare-knuckle fighting to make enough money to invest."