Til Darkness Falls, page 21
“I’m afraid that you will never regain full use of that hand.”
Alrick had stared at the army doctor with dead eyes. He couldn’t even begin to process everything that had happened to him. Any hope he’d had of ever playing the cello again was forever ruined. It had been just one more flake of misery in the avalanche that had buried him.
The men of his unit had spoken earnestly in his defense. Many of them knew that Alrick was gay, but none had ever had reason to speak ill of him. Indeed, as the sergeant major had charged, a couple of the men had known the pleasure of his body, though he’d always been the soul of discretion. But the outcome of the proceedings had never been in doubt.
Dishonorable discharge for assaulting a superior officer.
Alrick had walked from the hearing room without a word, his sister stomping furiously at his side. His father had not come. Later, he would learn that his father’s absence had been due to a sudden illness, not shame. But at that awful moment, it had seemed only fitting that his father would shun him. His heart had felt like a lump of ice in his chest as he’d walked away from the last ten years of his life.
The sound of an engine made Alrick look up from his clenched hand. Although it had healed enough to be functional, the army doctor had been right. He’d never recovered the full use of it, and even the smallest exertions of dexterity caused severe agony. But he didn’t need his hand to be perfect to hold a rifle or to get through this meeting.
The car pulling up behind him was unfamiliar, but the man sitting behind the wheel was not. Viktor Privalov’s blocky, unattractive features were instantly recognizable. Alrick didn’t know how old the Russian was, but he had to be well into his sixties. He wasn’t overly tall, but he made up for it in sheer bulk, which had probably once been pure muscle but had long ago run to fat. He looked like some Cold War-era Soviet caricature.
But Alrick wasn’t foolish enough to underestimate him. He’d made that mistake once when Privalov had first approached him about clearing his father’s debt. It was the first and last time he’d done so. The man hadn’t risen to the upper hierarchy of the Russian mafia by being a nice guy. Privalov always put forward an air of joviality, but his toothy smile was shark-like and just as dangerous.
The driver’s side door of the nondescript car opened, and the older man eased his bulk from behind the wheel. Alrick waited until Privalov was standing beside his obviously rented vehicle before pausing his car’s CD player. Silence replaced Wagner as he opened his own door. The shoulder holster beneath his coat tucking the reassuring weight of his Glock against his ribs, he unfolded himself from his seat and stood to meet the Russian.
“Ah, Alrick. Wonderful to see you, as always. You are looking very well.” Privalov spoke English, as he said it was always polite to use the language of the soil you were standing on. Listening to the other man’s thickly accented voice, Alrick wondered if he sounded so foreign to Americans. He nodded with polite reserve.
“Mr. Privalov.”
“How many times have I told you to call me Viktor, eh? We are old friends by this time.”
Alrick didn’t bother returning his friendly laugh. He knew the older man thought of him as uptight and overly serious, and he saw no reason to dissuade him of that opinion. The only relation he wanted to have with the Russian was of the purely business variety. “You left word that you wanted to meet with me.”
Viktor sighed in mock sadness at Alrick’s disinclination for false civility. “Fine, have it your way. Yes, I did want to speak with you. My comrades and I have become concerned with the amount of time your family is taking to retire your debts. We think maybe you need to be reminded that we are not running a charity.”
Alrick feared his teeth might break beneath the force of his clenching jaw. “Mr. Privalov, I have managed to pay you back nearly a half-million Euros since my father died, and before that he gave you over fifty thousand. That is seventy percent of what I owe you. I promise you, I am making every effort to honor our agreement.”
Viktor shook his head, his jowly face making him look like a basset hound as he frowned sadly. “My boy, there is interest to consider. I am afraid your debt has nearly doubled since your father first came to us for a loan. And even with the big name you have made for yourself, you still have not paid it off.” He clasped his hands on top of his large belly. “After all I did to help you.”
The muscles in Alrick’s neck and back tightened as he tensed with anger. Oh yes, Viktor Privalov had certainly offered him a way to repay his father’s debt, but at the cost of himself.
Two months after he’d left the army in disgrace, Viktor had found him sitting in a bar a few miles from his father’s shop. His father had offered to let him take up the permanent job that had always been meant for him, but his injury made using the necessary tools very difficult. Alrick had seen his father grow old before his eyes, the stress of no longer having Alrick’s army income to depend on wearing away at him and aging him before his time. He would be dead less than a year later, right after Alrick had earned his largest payment up to that time for a job.
Alrick had taken to drinking heavily, though the alcohol had only increased the black depression that threatened to bury him. He’d felt like a failure, a worthless man and an utter disappointment as a son. He had been signaling for yet another drink when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder.
“So you are Hans’s boy. You are a handsome one, da?” Viktor had continued to smile when Alrick jerked his shoulder in an attempt to dislodge the large hand. His expression didn’t change in the slightest when he’d tightened his grip enough to bruise the muscle in the younger man’s shoulder. He’d only let up when Alrick groaned in pain.
“What do you want?” The words slurred off Alrick’s tongue as he’d glared up at the stranger with bleary eyes.
“I hear you were a pretty good shot when you were in the army. I think we may be able to help one another out.”
Privalov’s offer had seemed too good to be true, promising Alrick a hefty fee of 10,000 Euros. The job had been a hit on a Polish police chief who had been making trouble for the Russians. A dedicated public servant, the chief had made it his mission to root out the organized crime syndicates that held Warsaw in their grip. Although he would be ashamed of it later, at the time, Alrick hadn’t asked too many questions. He hadn’t even known who the target was. All he’d known was that Privalov was paying him more money than he’d ever seen at one time. Privalov had even given him an Arctic Warfare rifle fitted with a Schmidt & Bender PM II telescopic sight for the job, the same model he had used in the army.
The weapon had felt like an old, dearly missed friend in his hands, the grips fitting his hold as though it had been made for him. Thinking of nothing but how much the money would help his father, Alrick had taken out his target with all the deadly efficiency that had earned him countless medals and commendations. He’d felt no trepidation, it not being the first time he had killed on command. It was only later that he’d learned whose life he had taken, but by then, he had already earned the first dark stains on his soul. Using the threat of harm to his father and sister, Privalov kept him on a tight leash. That first job was soon followed by others, and eventually, his clientele expanded beyond the Russian mafia. His reputation had grown quickly, and within a few years, he’d become the most sought-after assassin in Europe and the Americas.
His only peace came from the knowledge that his father had died before learning that his son had become a monster.
“Believe me, Mr. Privalov, I have taken many jobs that I probably should have avoided in my efforts to make good on my promise. I even took legitimate work so that all of the blood money goes toward my obligation to you. But I can’t earn everything that I still owe from a single hit. Please, I ask you to give me just a little while longer. My current job is very lucrative and will make a sizable dent in the remaining amount.”
Viktor looked at him skeptically. “Yes, I know about this arrangement you have with the idiot Italian, Rivella.” He turned his head to the side and spat into the dirt. “The man and his organization are a joke.”
“But his money is good. I swear, it won’t take much longer to pay everything off in full.”
“You have said this to me before, Alrick. I trusted you, but my patience can only be stretched so far. You might say otherwise, but I know you are extremely selective in the assignments you accept. That maybe good for you, but it is not so good for us, eh? I think maybe you do not work hard enough. Maybe you need some incentive.”
The threat was hardly subtle. A ball of ice solidified in Alrick’s stomach. “What sort of incentive?” Sharp spikes of dread speared into his gut when the older man smiled pleasantly.
“Rosamond, your sister? She is a very lovely girl. What a beautiful child she and her devoted husband have brought into this world. It would be such a shame if her husband and son were to lose her.”
An animalistic growl tore from Alrick’s throat as fear for his beloved sister filled his heart. “You will not hurt her!”
“Hurt her? Oh, you mistake me, my boy. If she were hurt, she would not be able to work, da?” Privalov’s eyes were cold, belying the shark’s grin that spread across his face. “Such a lovely girl. She is a little old, perhaps, but I’m sure many men would pay good money to enjoy her charms.” He watched with clinical detachment as Alrick turned red with fury, almost as though he was more curious than pleased at the German’s frustration.
Alrick held on to his temper by a thread. Killing the other man would do him no good. Privalov wasn’t the only one in his organization who was involved with his debt. There would be others to take Viktor’s place, and they would surely be less than pleased if he was murdered. Unbidden, a soothing melody began playing in Alrick’s head as he forced himself to calm down.
“That will be unnecessary, Mr. Privalov. The Milano job isn’t over yet, and I’ve already had inquiries for several others when this one has ended. You will have your money in the allotted time.”
Viktor spread his arms as he approached Alrick. Steeling himself, Alrick tamped down the desire to snap the older man’s neck when he was grabbed in a friendly embrace. Alrick always wondered if Privalov’s lack of caution around him was because he trusted him or because he knew that Alrick would be insane to try anything. Alrick’s expression remained impassive when the three traditional kisses were pressed to his cheeks.
“Then we understand each other. This is very good!”
Alrick tried not to stumble as a heavy clap landed on his arm. The years had not robbed Viktor Privalov of his power in any sense of the word. He would do well to remember that.
“Until next time, my boy.”
The rental car sank low on its tires when the large man sat behind the wheel. Alrick remained standing beside his car as he watched the Russian drive away in a shower of gravel. He hadn’t been exaggerating the amount of money Rivella was paying him, and he did indeed have more opportunities waiting in the wings. But the very thought of them made his heart sink. The melody running through his mind suddenly resolved itself into Bach’s “Prelude.”
Brian’s song. That was how he’d come to think of it. He’d never forget the night Brian had first asked him to play. That was when the other man had seemed to break free of whatever had been holding him back, the night Brian had opened himself fully, prompting Alrick to respond in kind as they’d enjoyed each other’s bodies. Of course, that facade of openness could be nothing more than a farce as long as he and Brian remained on completely opposite sides of the law. Alrick had experienced many moments of regret since first accepting Privalov’s offer, but never before had he been so desperate to walk away from the inescapable mess his life had become. All he wanted was to be free to love Brian the way he wanted to, the way he needed to.
The Russian was long gone when he finally gathered himself enough to return to his car. He’d just shut the door when his cell phone rang, the name that flashed across the display making his heart race.
“Brian? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
Alrick smiled, finding the other man’s touchiness adorable as always. “It’s just that you rarely call me in the middle of the day. What’s up?”
Brian snorted at the colloquialism. “You’ve been hanging around me too long.” The line was silent for a moment when he paused. “Um, I just wanted to tell you ‘okay.’”
“Okay about what?” Alrick frowned in confusion.
“Okay, I’ll go with you this weekend. Just let me know where we’re going so I know how to pack.”
Elation and trepidation fought for equal space in Alrick’s chest. His continued pursuit of Brian was an exercise in utter futility. His meeting with Privalov had only reinforced that painful fact. Alrick knew that the smart thing would be to rescind his invitation and cut off all future contact with the detective. He ruthlessly silenced the inner voice that preached caution.
“I’ll email you the web address for the inn. It’s on a lake, so bring something you wouldn’t mind getting wet in. Also, there will be opportunities for hiking.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Alrick could hear the smile in Brian’s voice. He realized that he would gladly be damned as a fool rather than give up even one precious moment with the other man. “Then I will pick you up this evening, say around ten?”
“That’s fine. And, Alrick? I’m sorry for waiting until the last minute. I should have accepted when you asked.” Brian sighed. “I was just being an idiot, but don’t worry. Angie set me straight, so to speak.”
Alrick thought his grin might split his face in two. “I’m just glad you agreed to go. I will see you tonight.”
“Yeah, okay. Um, auf Wiedersehen.”
Brian’s pronunciation was terrible, but it was like beautiful music to his ears.
Chapter 9
STANDING on the stoop of his apartment building, Brian tried not to fidget as he glanced at the cars coming down the street. A light above the front door illuminated the space around him, but he stood out of the direct glare, trying to remain less conspicuous out of habit. The approaching cars kept going past him, their headlights nearly blinding him. Pulling up the collar of his coat to block out the cold, Brian sighed as he bumped his toe against his small suitcase. He should have asked Alrick what type of car he’d be driving.
Angela had helped him tidy up the paperwork lingering on his desk, so he’d been able to leave the station that evening without worrying about something hanging over his head, waiting for his return. She’d been positively giddy when he’d told her that he’d accepted Alrick’s invitation. Several people had glanced curiously in their direction when she let out a happy whoop, grabbed his head, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He’d taken it with humiliated good humor, telling her that she was more excited than he was.
Yeah, right. He tensed as another car turned onto his street and cursed at the disappointment that filled him went it continued on like the others. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man. It made no sense that he was fairly bouncing in anticipation of spending a romantic weekend away with his boyfriend. He caught himself before he could kick his bag again, forcing himself to stop fidgeting like he was a five-year-old.
So of course when the next car that turned onto his block slowed as it approached him, the butterflies in his stomach immediately resumed their complex mating dance. It was dark despite the streetlights, and he couldn’t see through the car’s windows. It might not be him. Brian took a deep breath and told himself to calm the hell down. The driver might be waiting for someone else. But the butterflies won when a light came on inside the car and he caught sight of bright blond hair and a killer smile. Brian couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Maybe he’d been a junior high school girl in a previous life. Resigned to making a fool of himself, he picked up his suitcase and headed down the stairs. The trunk popped open, and Brian stored his bag next to the one already sitting there. That smile was waiting for him when he opened the passenger side door and slid into the empty seat.
“Hey,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he thought he did.
“Hi, yourself.”
That voice got him every damn time. Brian felt his heartbeat quicken, grateful for the distraction of fastening his safety belt as he tried not to squirm in his seat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but thanks for being discreet and not getting out of the car.”
The blond nodded as he shifted into drive. “It’s fine. I know you’re a police officer, so I wasn’t sure how openly you live.”
“Not very.” Brian appreciated the other man’s intuitive understanding of his situation. He watched Alrick drive for a moment and noticed something about his body language that made him smile. “You usually drive a stick, huh?”
The German glanced over at him in surprise. “How did you know?”
“You’ve kept your right hand on the gear shift ever since you put it in drive, and your left leg keeps twitching like you want to use it on the clutch.” Brian laughed when Alrick blinked at him. “Oh, come on. What sort of detective would I be if I couldn’t figure out that much?”
“I’ll remember not to underestimate you in the future.” Alrick gave him a lop-sided grin as he turned his attention back to the road. He looked over again briefly when Brian’s jaw cracked with a mighty yawn. “Tired?”
