Page 43 of One Dark Kiss (Grimm Bargains #2)

THIRTY-EIGHT

Rosalie

M y body is deliciously sore as I work at my computer on Tuesday morning, having called into work for a sick day.

Alexei hadn t given me much of a choice, so I decided to work from home.

I awakened early to hear him softly strumming his guitar, which he must ve brought to my house at some point, and my heart truly warmed.

The song was beautiful, and I m thrilled he s turned back to music.

He s currently attending a meeting with mob members, no doubt dangerous people, and I can t help but worry about him. Garik insisted on accompanying him, so I have two new guys watching the front door of my place.

I m not on board with being okay with murder.

The fact that he did kill David Fairfax still throws me.

I love Alexei, and I married him with my eyes mostly open.

I do wonder if there s a way to run his mob with rules.

Law abiding ones. I ll stick with him no matter what, but I think I can do some good with his organization.

Alexei had also promised to keep Ella safe.

I m sure he ll confiscate her computer and try to erase the video, and I hope she works with him.

He won t hurt her, but I don t have any guarantee that she won t hurt him.

She can t physically, but with a computer, she s a menace.

I also had to tell him of her ability to infect gemstones with a virus that can transfer to a person trying to charge them.

While I love her, I love him, too. There has to be a way to get them to like and trust each other.

I m a planner, and all I need to do is come up with a good plan.

I hope Ella sees that Alexei is protecting her from a contracted hit.

And I hope Alexei sees that Ella reacts out of fear and sometimes loneliness.

My phone buzzes and I lift it to my ear. Mooncrest.

Hey, Rosalie. It s Detective Battlement.

My heart drops. Hi, Detective.

His sigh holds weight. I shouldn t be calling you, but we re issuing an arrest warrant for you, and I needed to give you a heads up.

Why? I ask.

I like you. You remind me of my youngest sister, who s always falling for the wrong man. She gets into trouble like you do. Also, I hate putting innocents away, but you re culpable here. Please turn yourself in this morning so we don t have to hunt you down and handcuff you. He ends the call.

I feel sick and instantly call my attorney.

Joseph Cage, he answers, sounding distracted.

Hi. Detective Battlement just called, and they re going to arrest me. A headache pounds at the base of my neck. I need to turn myself in.

Shit. I was afraid of that. Cage sounds much more focused. I ve had our tech folks watching the feeds from the reception area of our firm to find who might ve stolen your letter opener and paperweight. So far, we ve had no luck.

Thank you, I say. I ve been racking my brain and haven t thought of anything that helps. If we have a recording of any delivery people coming into the front reception area, at least we ll have an idea where to start.

I agree.

My head is spinning. Do you think Battlement really has enough to arrest me?

He thinks he does, Cage says. He s got motive, opportunity, and your prints. It s enough to bring you in and arrest you, which will give him grounds for a search warrant for your house.

Does the detective really think I beat a woman to death? I would ve let him search my house.

And the firm, Cage finishes.

I rub my temple. Oh. It s rare to obtain a search warrant for a law firm because of privilege. I m sure they ll limit the warrant to just my office.

I know. I m already having your paralegal take out all sensitive files.

I wince. Joseph, you re not supposed to do that.

A warrant hasn t been issued yet.

Very good point. There s a reason he s the managing partner of the firm. I guess I ll head in to the police station now. My voice trembles.

Hey. It s going to be okay, Cage says softly. We re the best law firm in the state, and you re innocent. Keep that in mind.

I swallow over a lump in my throat and notice that my hands are shaking. I will.

You don t sound good. I ll pick you up so I m with you the entire time.

Hope filters through me. I really don t want to be alone, and I doubt I can get ahold of Alexei right now. Are you sure? I could just meet you there.

It doesn t sound like you should drive. The ding of an elevator button comes through the line.

I like that the detective called you. I don t know if that means that he just thinks you re in over your head or if perhaps he believes you to be innocent.

Either way, he s working with us. Cage sounds both thoughtful and relieved.

Okay. This will be all right. I repeat the mantra in my head. Thank you, Joseph.

Of course. I m in the car and will be there in fifteen minutes. I promise we ll get you bailed out as soon as possible. The firm will pay for any bail you need.

Relief flows through me. Thank you.

Of course. I know you didn t do this. He clicks off.

Standing, I take off my suit and pull on a pair of jeans, socks, sneakers, and a lightweight sweater.

If I m going to jail, I m going to be comfortable.

I then dash off a note to my boarders with instructions for the next couple of days, just in case.

Finally, I hear a car pull up outside. I open my door and jog down the stairs of my outside entrance while texting Alexei with an update of what s happening.

I know he s busy, but I m sure he ll see the texts when he can.

Cage s town car waits at my curb. The two men from Alexei s organization move toward me from the front porch, and I wave a hand. It s okay. I have to surrender myself at the police station, and then I ll be back home.

The back door of the car opens, and Joseph Cage leans out. Is everything all right? He looks at the two guys. They re both built like trucks and are obviously armed.

My bodyguards, I say.

The first one shakes his head. You re not supposed to leave.

He s a youngish guy named Olaf, and a couple of my boarders have been sneaking him pancakes. His partner is a couple years older and looks like he could punch through a wall with his head.

I don t have a choice. Either I go in or the police come and get me, I say.

They look at each other, obviously not wanting to mess with the police.

Olaf rests his hand on his gun. Most of our, um, organization is in the middle of a, well, negotiation right now.

What? I read between the lines. Alexei and his few followers are meeting and hopefully not shooting with the rest of the mob? Great. I m going in. I ll deal with Alexei later.

We ll follow you, Olaf says.

Fine by me. I hurry to the car and slip into the back seat along with Joseph. I shut the door. I can t believe I m being arrested.

Cage is pale in the dim light of the vehicle. It s all right. We ll use the back door, and hopefully nobody will see you. The firm doesn t want the news media to pick up on this.

I agree, I say. I m really sorry about this.

He swallows loudly. It s not your fault. Jaqueline assigned the case to you. I would ve passed on the whole thing.

You don t care about redeeming the firm s reputation?

Cage looks down at his jeans. Not even remotely. I did at first, but believe me, this has not been worth it.

I know. I feel like I should apologize again, but really not much of this is my fault.

I look through the back window to see the two Russian men following us in a lifted, light-beige truck.

The truck s a surprise. I m accustomed to these guys all driving around in black town cars.

In fact, the truck is a nice change of pace.

I always figured when it comes to the mob, they all drive black cars.

It s good that they have some choice in their vehicles.

I have no problem focusing my brain on whimsical thoughts or unimportant details while ignoring danger. It makes me feel more in control.

Just as that last thought runs through my mind, a large delivery truck barrels out of an alley behind us and then slams on its brakes.

Hey, I say. Wait a minute. It s blocking my guys. I don t know when they became my guys, but I go with it.

Joseph turns toward me. I am really sorry about this.

Dread slides through my veins on the heels of a rush of adrenaline. Sorry about what?

The window partition between the front and back seat goes down and a man turns to us with a gun pointed at Cage.

I blink. What s going on, Joseph?

I don t recognize the man, and the weapon has one of those slider things on it. Wait a minute. It s a silencer.

Cage shakes his head. I m sorry. They didn t give me a choice.

Who didn t give you a choice? Alarm clashes through me. I leap toward the door and frantically pull on the handle. Nothing.

It s locked, the guy in the front seat says. I can see the back of the head of a driver who s another man I don t recognize.

I gape at my friend. How is this possible? I called him with the news that I needed to go to the police station. I set this up—not him. What did you do?

They didn t give me a choice and were waiting at the curb for me at the firm.

The man from the front fires with a small pop. I jolt and push myself across the seat. Blood spurts from Cage s forehead, and his eyes widen before he slumps backward.

I can t move. Every cell in my body is frozen. I slowly turn from staring at the clear hole in Joseph s head to look at the man in the front seat.

He smiles. We no longer need him.

I gag several times and then swallow to keep from throwing up. Who are you?

Nobody that matters.

I look at my dead friend. I beg to differ.

The shooter smiles. Throw me your purse.

I grab my purse and hold it on my lap. No. You re not going to get it.

He fires quickly into the seat next to me, and puffs of fabric billow up through the leather. I scream and try to get away.

The next one goes in your leg. Just your shin because we need you alive, but it s going to hurt.

Fury takes me and I throw my purse at him.

Thank you, he says politely, turning and lowering his window. He throws my entire purse out onto the street and then rolls the window back up. We wouldn t want anybody to trace you, would we? The window partition between us rises.

I look at Joseph s limp body, and bile rises from my stomach again. I can t believe he s dead. How did you know I d call him?

The brute up front shrugs. My employer has bugged the phones of whoever we could in your circle. Didn t get everybody, but your lawyer was easy.

Poor Joseph. All he did was get into the wrong town car.

Why did I call him? This is my fault. I pull frantically on the door handle, and nothing happens, so I move over to Cage s side and do the same, careful not to touch him.

I m definitely locked in. I pat his pockets down, searching for anything to use as a weapon.

He doesn t have a phone or knife on him.

There isn t anything that will help me in this vehicle, so I roll over onto my back, putting my head on poor Joseph s thigh, and kick the window as hard as I can. The glass barely even moves. I do it several more times.

Nothing.

We soon arrive at a more residential area and keep driving until the car stops at a massive gilded gate.

Armed men guard both sides of it. The gate opens, and we drive up a long driveway with trees on either side, to reach what can only be called a mansion.

It appears even bigger than Alana s family home.

My door opens. The driver grabs my arm and pulls me out. I turn sideways and kick his knee.

He throws me back against the car. Knock it off.

Pain lashes through my shoulder. I halt and stare at the three-story, white-brick monstrosity in front of me.

Wide white columns stand every few feet, appearing to support the entire front of the building.

The double door is black, gilded, and larger than any I ve ever seen.

It opens and Lillian Sokolov walks out, her shoulders straight and her hair back to being platinum blond.

How nice of you to join me. She smiles, no longer looking older than her age.