Becoming Rain
Page 95
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“No, Luke.” Rain yanks on my arm, keeping me close, a split second before I charge over there and punch him square in his misshapen nose.
I bow my head and hiss, “He kills Rust and then shows up at his funeral!”
Her cool fingers touch my cheek, pulling my face to hers. Her eyes pleading. “Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything.”
“How can I do that?”
“You have to,” she urges, roping her arm around my back. “The less he thinks you suspect, the safer it is for you and your family, right?” She grits her teeth. “If he comes over to offer his condolences, you take it. You hear me? You know nothing. You suspect nothing. No one knows anything. Okay?”
“Jesus.” How the hell can I do that? I inhale deeply. If I was on edge before, now I’m hanging by a branch over a cliff.
Chapter 54
CLARA
Sinclair was right. Like a group of sadists, the Russians swept in quietly to admire their work. While I can identify only Vlad and his father, the team of undercover agents weaving themselves into this impressive crowd have no doubt taken candid snaps and will have every last one of them identified shortly.
Even Warner is here, in his role as Jack. Just a sympathetic brother who heard what happened and wanted to lend his support to his sister, should Luke notice. He hasn’t, now too occupied with staring at his feet and taking deep breaths. Basically doing everything he can to heed my advice, because he knows I’m right.
“Luke.” That odd accent fills my ear as Aref appears behind us, dressed as sharply as always, clasping his hand. “Do not hesitate to call if you need anything at all. From either Elmira or me.” Like a black shadow, the tiny woman appears from behind him to stretch onto her tiptoes and plant a kiss on Luke’s cheek. “We’ll keep your family and Rust in our prayers,” she coos. And then obsidian eyes shift to meet mine. She closes in for a hug. “Luke will not forget all that you’ve done for him.”
I want to pin this little woman down, slap handcuffs on her, and drag her into a room where I can pull the answers out of her silver-tongued mouth.
But I smile instead. I’ll have my chance.
Wave after wave of people pass by, paying their respects to the nephew of a “kind and generous man.” Luke does well, nodding and offering tight-lipped smiles to them all. But the way he’s leaning into me and the pallor of his skin tells me he’s overwhelmed.
And finally, it happens. The tattooed knuckles of Vlad Bragin reach out. “I’m sorry that my last words with your uncle were ones of anger,” he says. Nothing about him—his stance, his expression, the way he locks eyes with Luke and holds it for five long seconds—says that he’s sorry at all.
Luke’s jaw tightens, his hand around my waist squeezes, and I’m afraid he’s going to start uttering threats and accusations. But then he simply nods.
The rest of the line passes, and I keep my vigil next to him, the stoic girlfriend, while my eyes trail Vlad weaving around the various intimate groups. The rain has stopped and people are already lowering their umbrellas, making it easier to read all the faces.
Certainly easier for the various FBI agents scrambling to salvage a case that may have been buried with the body of Rust Markov.
Or perhaps wasn’t.
Vlad passes Aref and slows, exchanging a few brief words and a handshake, before moving on. I expect him to rejoin his father and duck into his car now, but he doesn’t. He veers off slightly, stopping in front of a burly garage manager whose face is tightening with anxiety with each passing second.
Miller takes two steps away from the girl in the wheelchair to receive whatever Vlad leans in to say in his ear. It’s quick, but it’s clearly impactful, because Miller’s face pales. He nods as Vlad walks away, staring vacantly at the casket that waits to be lowered for a few long minutes before stepping back to his family.
Smiling down at them as worry and fear and guilt fills his face and his shoulders seem to sink. Smiling like a father who loves his family, who will do anything for them.
And it clicks.
A quick glance up at Luke tells me he didn’t see it, too busy trying to get through the last of the Russian mafia. A glance over at Warner tells me he did. He’s already moving away from the crowd, punching numbers into his phone.
“Rain?”
I peel my hyperalert focus away from him and give it back to Luke. “Sorry, yeah?”
“We’re going to order some dinner back at my mom’s.” He nods over to his mom and Ana, standing next to Jesse. Alex didn’t come. I wonder if it’s because she’d rather remain hidden. “Do you want to come?” His eyes beg me.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He sighs, relieved, leaning in to kiss me softly. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for us. Honestly. I . . .” He stalls, faltering over the next word, his mouth poised to utter words that I fear will both swell and break my heart.
“Rain?” Warner interrupts the disastrous situation.
Luke looks past me, his brow furrowing.
“Not sure if you remember me. Jack, Rain’s brother.” Warner sticks his hand out. “Rain told me what happened. I’m sorry for your loss.” Eyes back on me. “And I’m sorry to do this but we’ve got to go. Dad’s surgery was this morning.” His eyebrow spikes in that knowing way.
I feel sick to my stomach. Because I know what that look means.
I bow my head and hiss, “He kills Rust and then shows up at his funeral!”
Her cool fingers touch my cheek, pulling my face to hers. Her eyes pleading. “Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything.”
“How can I do that?”
“You have to,” she urges, roping her arm around my back. “The less he thinks you suspect, the safer it is for you and your family, right?” She grits her teeth. “If he comes over to offer his condolences, you take it. You hear me? You know nothing. You suspect nothing. No one knows anything. Okay?”
“Jesus.” How the hell can I do that? I inhale deeply. If I was on edge before, now I’m hanging by a branch over a cliff.
Chapter 54
CLARA
Sinclair was right. Like a group of sadists, the Russians swept in quietly to admire their work. While I can identify only Vlad and his father, the team of undercover agents weaving themselves into this impressive crowd have no doubt taken candid snaps and will have every last one of them identified shortly.
Even Warner is here, in his role as Jack. Just a sympathetic brother who heard what happened and wanted to lend his support to his sister, should Luke notice. He hasn’t, now too occupied with staring at his feet and taking deep breaths. Basically doing everything he can to heed my advice, because he knows I’m right.
“Luke.” That odd accent fills my ear as Aref appears behind us, dressed as sharply as always, clasping his hand. “Do not hesitate to call if you need anything at all. From either Elmira or me.” Like a black shadow, the tiny woman appears from behind him to stretch onto her tiptoes and plant a kiss on Luke’s cheek. “We’ll keep your family and Rust in our prayers,” she coos. And then obsidian eyes shift to meet mine. She closes in for a hug. “Luke will not forget all that you’ve done for him.”
I want to pin this little woman down, slap handcuffs on her, and drag her into a room where I can pull the answers out of her silver-tongued mouth.
But I smile instead. I’ll have my chance.
Wave after wave of people pass by, paying their respects to the nephew of a “kind and generous man.” Luke does well, nodding and offering tight-lipped smiles to them all. But the way he’s leaning into me and the pallor of his skin tells me he’s overwhelmed.
And finally, it happens. The tattooed knuckles of Vlad Bragin reach out. “I’m sorry that my last words with your uncle were ones of anger,” he says. Nothing about him—his stance, his expression, the way he locks eyes with Luke and holds it for five long seconds—says that he’s sorry at all.
Luke’s jaw tightens, his hand around my waist squeezes, and I’m afraid he’s going to start uttering threats and accusations. But then he simply nods.
The rest of the line passes, and I keep my vigil next to him, the stoic girlfriend, while my eyes trail Vlad weaving around the various intimate groups. The rain has stopped and people are already lowering their umbrellas, making it easier to read all the faces.
Certainly easier for the various FBI agents scrambling to salvage a case that may have been buried with the body of Rust Markov.
Or perhaps wasn’t.
Vlad passes Aref and slows, exchanging a few brief words and a handshake, before moving on. I expect him to rejoin his father and duck into his car now, but he doesn’t. He veers off slightly, stopping in front of a burly garage manager whose face is tightening with anxiety with each passing second.
Miller takes two steps away from the girl in the wheelchair to receive whatever Vlad leans in to say in his ear. It’s quick, but it’s clearly impactful, because Miller’s face pales. He nods as Vlad walks away, staring vacantly at the casket that waits to be lowered for a few long minutes before stepping back to his family.
Smiling down at them as worry and fear and guilt fills his face and his shoulders seem to sink. Smiling like a father who loves his family, who will do anything for them.
And it clicks.
A quick glance up at Luke tells me he didn’t see it, too busy trying to get through the last of the Russian mafia. A glance over at Warner tells me he did. He’s already moving away from the crowd, punching numbers into his phone.
“Rain?”
I peel my hyperalert focus away from him and give it back to Luke. “Sorry, yeah?”
“We’re going to order some dinner back at my mom’s.” He nods over to his mom and Ana, standing next to Jesse. Alex didn’t come. I wonder if it’s because she’d rather remain hidden. “Do you want to come?” His eyes beg me.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He sighs, relieved, leaning in to kiss me softly. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for us. Honestly. I . . .” He stalls, faltering over the next word, his mouth poised to utter words that I fear will both swell and break my heart.
“Rain?” Warner interrupts the disastrous situation.
Luke looks past me, his brow furrowing.
“Not sure if you remember me. Jack, Rain’s brother.” Warner sticks his hand out. “Rain told me what happened. I’m sorry for your loss.” Eyes back on me. “And I’m sorry to do this but we’ve got to go. Dad’s surgery was this morning.” His eyebrow spikes in that knowing way.
I feel sick to my stomach. Because I know what that look means.
