Page 14 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

Este

“Yes, Irina?” I asked when I heard her heels click-clack all the way down the hall until they stopped right behind me.

“Konstantin and Mikhail are having a private meeting. We are closing early. You can stay until you are finished, then you can leave.”

“Understood.”

It had been dead all night anyway. There was a lot of tension in town, the cops and corrections officers all strangely missing when they were almost always hanging out.

It was probably time to pick up my phone and see if there was something going on in the world.

I didn’t have any cable or internet at home.

I didn’t have anything that didn’t come included in my rent, actually.

I didn’t want my name on more documents than absolutely necessary.

And my phone was a burner where I had to be careful about burning through my data.

Especially since I spent so much time building my design boards.

It meant I was somewhat cut off from anything that wasn’t directly in front of me.

It was honestly kind of nice.

But it seemed like I was the only person in town not weirdly tense.

Well, that wasn’t fair. Saul seemed pretty calm too. That said, Saul was laid-back about everything. And he seemed the kind not to be chronically online. Maybe he was as out of the loop as I was.

Not that I really had a lot to judge that on.

I’d only seen him on the trip to pick up Steve.

And, sure, the ride up to the shelter had involved some fun.

But the actual shelter itself had been heavy and sad.

The ride back had been hilariously awkward, with Steve trying to keep wedging himself between us, taking turns panting and doing an adorable dog smile.

It was such a change from the withdrawn, depressed dog in the cage at the shelter that it was all we could talk about on the way back to town.

Once we finally got to Shady Valley, I’d asked Saul to drop me off because I was worried about Trix (who did not like that I smelled like another dog). After that, I hadn’t seen him.

Fine.

It had only been three days.

And this time, we’d both been, you know, mutually satisfied. But still, I’d been kind of hoping to see him walking down the street or stepping into the pool hall. Hell, even showing up uninvited at my door.

He’d have been a really welcome distraction.

Trix and I were miserable with the new neighbor.

Who hadn’t come to the door to take the homemade brownies but returned the empty plate the next day.

That wasn’t the problem, though. I was actually fine with not having to engage in endless small talk with the person who lived next door.

But whoever it was, they were loud day and night.

I mean, sure, I’d been doing a ton of renovations too, but I made sure to only do quiet stuff—painting, decorating, sealing the tile floors—at night.

Not the new neighbor.

Oh, no.

They were hammering, nailing, sanding, and sawing at all hours of the day and night.

Which, in turn, made me turn my music on louder so Trix and I could try to get some sleep. And that made me feel like an asshole.

It was a whole thing.

I was trying to give them a little grace because I knew what it was like to try to balance work and home improvement.

Still, it was kind of rude.

On the plus side, with all the hours they were putting in, it seemed like they would be done in no time.

“The floors, I want them shining,” Irina said.

“Do you want me to polish them?”

“I don’t know the terms. But I want to see my face reflected.”

“Got it.”

She click-clacked away to shoo the last customers out the door before the brothers and she all made their way out the front door without so much as a glance back toward me.

“A good evening to you too,” I mumbled to myself as I walked around cleaning up some leftover cups and plates of snacks.

Then I put on some bluesy music to romanticize the process of sweeping, vacuuming, wiping surfaces, and mopping.

Finished with that, I inched through the back door since I’d mopped myself out of the front.

Wedging a box in the doorway, I went out into the back alley, breathing in air that didn’t stink of ‘fresh linen’ cleaner.

The air was starting to take on the slightest of chills.

I mean, this was California. The late summers and early falls weren’t going to have those crisp nights that made you pull on a hoodie to go sit around a crackling fire. But it was still a nice break from the hot, dry nights we’d been having.

Though I would miss autumn evenings, I had to say that the oppressive summer humidity of my East Coast upbringing wouldn’t be missed if I got to keep Shady Valley as my home.

And I really, really wanted that.

Above me in the alley, the motion-activated light flicked off, blanketing me in darkness.

The night pressed in around me. Too heavy. Too close.

My breathing went quick and shallow, and that old familiar edge of panic clawed up my chest.

Everything in me said to throw out my arms, to activate the light.

But I forced my arms to stay down at my sides, to not give in to that need.

I knew that giving in was only reinforcing the fear. And I knew from Saul that I could calm down; I could endure.

I didn’t exactly have the distraction Saul had provided, but I refused to believe I wasn’t capable of getting to that same level of calm by myself.

I was safe.

There was nothing scary in the darkness.

I took a slow, deep breath until my belly even expanded.

Five things I could hear.

The night bugs. The music from the pub next door. The sound of someone on a cell phone on the street. My own deep breaths.

My heartbeat was about to pound out of my chest.

No.

Nope.

That wasn’t helping.

I moved through my senses, focusing on my surroundings, the things I could hear, see, smell, and touch.

Until the darkness wasn’t so terrifying.

I unclenched my sweaty fists and took several more slow, deep breaths.

I wasn’t exactly calm.

But I didn’t feel like my skin was crawling anymore.

Considering that progress, I slowly raised an arm, watching the light illuminate the alley.

No one scary hiding in the shadows.

Just me.

And my aching muscles that didn’t want to go back inside to wax the damn floor.

But if Irina didn’t like the shine, I was just going to have to redo the whole process.

With a sigh, I made my way in through the back door.

I was leaning down to move the box I’d shoved in the doorway when I heard something in the front of the pool hall.

Startled, I lost my footing.

I stumbled backward, my belly bottoming out as I flailed, but there was no way to brace for a backward fall.

I crashed down hard.

The pain exploded up my spine, stealing my breath as tears pricked my eyes.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I whimpered. I pressed my palms to the floor, pushing to lift up off my aching butt.

I got to my knees, then all fours, breathing through the pain as I forced myself to slowly get to my feet.

I stumbled forward, pressing the back door until it clicked and locked before inching my way through the back room, grabbing the mop as I went. It wasn’t the best of weapons but it was better than nothing.

I tried to focus, to listen. But all I could hear was the blood rushing through my ears, the thud of my heartbeat, and my ragged, uneven breathing.

My footsteps were blessedly silent as I leaned through the doorway, looking for any dark, scary figures.

But there was no one.

And nothing seemed out of place.

I reached back, rubbing my sore ass, trying to tell myself that I’d been hearing things, that I was just anxious from my little panic attack.

But I couldn’t out-logic the prickle moving across my neck, the goosebumps rising up on my arms.

Something felt wrong.

My gaze scanned around again, spotting what was wrong.

The men’s room door was ajar.

I had a distinct memory of closing it when I’d been wiping off the doorknob.

I hadn’t cleaned the bathrooms after closing since I’d just finished cleaning them when the hall had still been open.

Could someone have been trapped inside?

But if so, why didn’t they show themselves sooner? I’d been working for hours. They had to have heard me.

Could they have been passed out?

Most people ended up at the pool hall before, and often after, a trip to the pub. Had they stumbled in after I cleaned, and just blacked out? Then woken up freaked out and ran?

I didn’t know if this was something that I should call the cops over. I mean, I had no proof.

Or maybe I should tell Konstantin and Mikhail?

But was a suspicion enough reason to call them? When Irina made it clear they had an important meeting?

Maybe it could wait until the next day.

Especially when I wasn’t sure.

The tight sensation in my chest and throat didn’t ease, though, until I finished polishing the floor, gathered my things, and turned off the lights.

I had the back door open when I heard more noise at the front of the building.

This time, though, it wasn’t just a suspicion.

The front door opened, closed, then footsteps moved across my clean floor.

More so than that, though, my imagination could never conjure up the male voices. Nor the insanity of what they were saying.

“Fucking waste of time,” Mikhail griped, tossing something that landed with a thud on the desk. “What good is having fucking captains if they don’t know what the fuck is going on either?”

A captain?

What the hell was a captain?

Konstantin’s voice was further away, interrupted with a clink of glass as he—I imagined—poured drinks.

“To be fair, their jobs are to keep an eye on the warriors. This is on us.”

Warriors?

What the hell were they talking about?

Some kind of game, maybe?

Though nothing about the Novikoff brothers said they were the types to play video games.

I needed to either announce my presence or get the hell out of there. No one liked being overheard when they thought they were alone.

“All I know is when we find the sonofabitch who is stealing from us, I’m going to enjoy stringing them up and slicing off their hands.”

My belly flipped.

My blood went cold.

Because that didn’t sound like hyperbole, like some silly made-up fantasy. Can you believe he cheated on me? I want to kill him.

No.

Mikhail sounded deadly serious.

“Examples have to be made,” Konstantin agreed. “No one can steal from us.”

My saliva felt acidic. It burned all the way down when I swallowed.

I had to get the hell out of there.

Being an eavesdropper was bad enough. Overhearing actual plans to maim someone?

That seemed like a surefire way to find myself strung up and missing limbs too. Or my tongue.

I eased out the back door.

Then, inch by inch, with my heart in a vice grip, I slid it closed before releasing the knob so the lock engaged.

Then I ran.

Through the alley of the pub, I avoided the eyes of the dishwashers who were having a smoke break, the skunky scent of weed filling the air, making it even harder for me to draw a proper breath. Even as a part of me wondered if I should go back and ask to take a hit to ease my anxiety.

Because… what the actual hell was that?

Who the hell did I work for?

I regretted my urge to get more exercise by walking to work as paranoia had me glancing back over my shoulder over and over again as I made my way down the main street. Konstantin or Mikhail could walk out of the pool hall at any moment.

What would they do if they saw me?

Would they assume I’d been coming from work? That I’d heard what they said?

The fears proved unfounded, though, as I turned down the road to my home without any men running after me.

Little by little, the tightness in my chest decreased.

Until, of course, I got to my door and had another thought.

What about the cameras?

What if they’d seen me in the back, listening?

“I’m so happy to see you,” I greeted Trix as she ran up to the door. “You’d protect me from the scary Russian guys, wouldn’t you?” I asked her as she pranced alongside me to the back door. “No one is cutting off my hands when you’re around, right?”

Trix snorted.

“That’s right,” I agreed, watching her sniff around the yard. “Oh, of course,” I grumbled.

The renovation sounds had been nonexistent when I’d gotten home. Almost as if waiting for me, the damn hammering started up again.

“What am I gonna do, girl?” I asked my dog as she came back in to get a late-night dinner with me. She had cooked chicken, rice, veggies, liver, and pumpkin. I had two slices of cheese, a handful of grapes, and a mini sleeve of soda crackers.

“Like I can’t just quit, can I?”

Finished eating, Trix followed me to the couch, climbing half onto my lap with a deep sigh, as if she were just as confused about the situation as I was.

I mean, quitting felt like the most sane option. I couldn’t continue to work for a bunch of violent men. But what if that triggered their suspicions? What if they checked the cameras? What if they thought I was the one stealing from them?

And, of course, on a practical note, what the heck was I going to do about money?

None of the other applications I’d submitted when I moved to town had ever called. Even if they did, I’d be making roughly half of what I was making at the pool hall.

“Would it be insane to keep working there?” I asked Trix as I rubbed her impossibly soft head. “Maybe for just a couple more months? I mean… people work for shitty people every day, don’t they?”

And in a small town with limited options, what else could I do but keep on keeping on?

“I guess I could try to, you know, avoid them.”

It went without saying that I couldn’t report the break-in, either. Doing so might trigger the brothers to check the cameras. If they did that, they’d see me overhearing them.

Plus, I mean, I had plausible deniability on that front. I had no proof anyone was there. It could have been all in my head.

“And no more working late. I can do my job when there are other people around. Witnesses.”

Trix huffed.

“I know. It’s not ideal. But I’m kind of fond of this town, y’know? I will keep an eye out for other jobs. Then give my two weeks’ notice. They wouldn’t be suspicious about that.” And hopefully the camera footage would erase or write over itself within a certain amount of time.

“Ugh, that’s new,” I grumbled when the construction sounds started below our feet.

Trix stiffened, lifted her big head, and growled.

“Yeah, let’s go on up to bed.”

At her second favorite word (next to ‘outside’), Trix jumped up and ran toward the stairs.

“I’m just going to bring this up with us,” I said, grabbing my heaviest hammer, “you know, in case of late-night home-improvement tasks.”

Or Russian criminals invading.