Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(33)

My gaze drifts over to Rain’s window. “I can do that. You don’t think this’ll cause problems with Vlad?”

He heaves a sigh that tells me that it probably will. “Like he said, this is business. We have our deal with them, and this is outside of that. Plus, I don’t like Vlad thinking he has a monopoly. Just . . . we won’t mention it to Vlad.”

“Got it.” I can see Vlad being the kind of guy to fly off the handle. A lot of screaming and shouting. Possibly some threats.

“How’s the car?” I hear the smile in Rust’s voice, so I know his mood has already shifted. I’ve never seen him so happy to give me something as he was that day last week, when I drove off the lot in my brand-new shiny black Porsche 911.

I beam, just thinking about it. “Fucking beautiful. Thank you, Rust.”

“Well, you make me proud, son.”

I hang up wondering if Rust would still say that had I not willingly gone into business with him. Would he still be treating me like the son he never had, or instead like a nephew he checks in on once in a while? Would my name be on the deed to a million-dollar condo? Would I have all that I have?

Dialing Rain’s number, a slight bubble of nerves spikes in me as I wait. It’s an odd sensation, not one I’m used to. She answers after the third ring. Lick’s head pops up as Stanley’s yappy bark comes through in the background, making me chuckle and the tension in my back quickly slide away. “Hey. You’re still free tonight, right?”

She has a nice walk. It’s sleek and steady and catlike.

I watch Rain approach my car, her calf muscles tightening with each step, thanks to those wickedly tall red shoes.

The kind I like.

So is the snug black dress she’s wearing. Strapless, showing off the curves of her neck and shoulders. One of my favorite parts of a woman.

The entire package is impressive. I suddenly wonder how the hell I could have been distracted enough not to call her the day I met her. How it took getting attacked by her dog to notice her in the park. How I’m going to give her space, when all I want to do right now is touch her.

“Nice car,” she murmurs, her crystal-blue eyes sliding over the frame of my Porsche before she slides into the passenger seat. The back of her dress dips down even lower, highlighting her sleek curves and that sexy tattoo. The one I saw last night, when she was in her underwear . . . My heart rate spikes a little.

“New?” She stares at me, waiting for my answer.

Focus, Luke. “Yeah, I just got it last week.” I drove it off the lot and around Portland with a massive hard-on for three hours.

Pulling out of the condo parking lot, I let my hand rest on the gear stick. “You look really . . . nice.” I steal a glance at her firm thighs and smooth skin. She definitely takes care of herself.

Glass. She’s glass, I remind myself.

She dips her head in that almost embarrassed way, the way she always does when she catches me looking at her, her fingers fumbling with the gold chain of her necklace. She does that quite a bit, I’ve noticed. Must be a nervous habit. “So, where are you taking me?”

“A business associate’s party.”

“Easily five million. Maybe more,” I murmur, taking in the lit-up mansion that sits by Columbia River, handing my keys to the hired valet. Not surprising that Aref would hire someone to manage all the guests filtering through here. Rust said he likes throwing parties and people like coming to them.

I steal a glance Rain’s way to see her eyes widen, skittering over all the details, taking it all in. As if she’s not used to places and parties like this. Hard to believe, given what she said her father does, what she drives, who she is. The condo she’s living in would have cost her dad a million, easy. I know because that’s what the one I’m living in cost Rust and they’re about equal. An investment, he said.

People don’t invest in million-dollar condos unless they’ve got serious cash available.

Her large eyes catch me studying her. “It reminds me a lot of a place we owned when I was younger. Who did you say this guy was again?”

“His name’s Aref.” Simple and vague. I don’t have much else to go on, except that I’m looking for a tall Iranian man with a slight scar bisecting his upper lip.

She doesn’t push. I like that. Maybe it’s because of my time with Rust. Maybe it’s because there is so much I can’t talk about. In any event, too many questions generally irritate me. Sliding her arm through mine, she purrs, “Let’s see what kind of wine Aref’s serving tonight.”

I lead her to the house and into a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Chapter 14

CLARA

Who the hell are these people and how do they live like this?

I mean, I know who they are, in general. And I know exactly how they live like this.

Yet, as I stand in the backyard of this palatial home, overlooking the expansive Columbia River beyond, surrounded by landscaping and wealth the likes of which I can’t say I’ve ever seen on the job before, a wave of envy washes over me. These criminals are living in luxury that I’ll never experience. Not on a cop’s salary. Not even on an FBI agent’s salary. I’ll be the one trying to bust *s like this, while they sip their Champagne and rest their feet on the rails of their yachts. And laugh at poor suckers like me.