Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(51)

“I am waiting on a few more, but you should have plenty to get started on. Now, if you will please excuse me, it is time for me to enjoy one of my babies. It has been too long since I have taken her out.” He cracks open the front door and bellows, “Alexandria!” Shutting it, he strolls toward me. “My wife hates going for rides with me. She complains that I drive too fast. It scares her.” He climbs into the Shelby and cranks the engine, the sound of it coming to life a thing of sheer beauty.

I’m in the garage when I hear the front door close and the clicking of heels on concrete. Moments later, she appears in a cotton-candy pink coat, black pants, and ridiculously high shoes. Just the sight of her back gets my blood roiling, because I know what she looks like, what she feels like, what her skin smells like, under all that.

“Hurry up, Alexandria!” Viktor barks and her heels immediately click faster, until she’s practically running. That’s probably why she drops her keys. She stoops to pick them up.

And her fat bottom lip stares at me. She tried to cover it with makeup, but it may as well have a spotlight on it.

I walk to the Aston Martin, gritting my teeth as rage boils inside me, ready to take a wrench to the car. I don’t know how she got it, I remind myself. But I do know that she didn’t have it when I left her in bed this morning.

She’ll probably lie to me anyway. Tell me she walked into a wall or something.

And regardless, I can’t say a damn thing. It would probably only earn her a few more punches and cause me some definite problems. For one, I could kiss my job goodbye, given Viktor’s close connections with Rust. I’d also lose any chance of getting paid for the work I’ve done so far, not to mention my Barracuda.

But I don’t really care about me right now.

A door slams and then the Shelby peels out of the driveway. An angry horn blast at the bottom makes me think Viktor probably cut someone off as he jumped onto the road.

If Alex doesn’t like his driving, she’s probably terrified right now.

“Fuck!” I throw the wrench against the concrete floor.

Why do you have a fat lip?

Viktor and Alex came racing back up the driveway about an hour later, Alex’s face as white as a blank page of paper. She ducked her head and ran inside. I didn’t see her again to ask, but I have to know. Even if she gives me a lame answer.

I’m beginning to think she’s asleep when my phone dings.

I let my phone die last night and Viktor couldn’t get ahold of me.

“You’ve got to be . . .” I want to launch my phone at the wall. Instead, I type out:

He was worried about you so he hit you?

No. He wanted his pinstripe suit laid out for a breakfast meeting and he expected his wife to be home to do it for him.

A second text comes through quickly after:

You can’t say anything, Jesse. It won’t end well for either of us.

Tossing my phone on the far end of the bed, I storm across the room, pushing Boone’s door open. “Do you know that the f**ker beats his wife?”

Boone, on the floor in nothing but shorts, pauses mid-crunch. He never misses his daily workout, even on days when he hits the gym. I’ve seen him come home from the bar annihilated and drop for a hundred reps. “Who?”

“Your man crush, Viktor Fuckhead Petrova.”

He flops to the floor and reaches back to give Licks a belly rub. By the muscles straining against his abdomen, I’d say Boone’s already done most of his reps for tonight. “Are you surprised? You saw him slap her at the bar.”

“So . . . what? You think it’s okay?”

“Of course I don’t, but what the hell am I supposed to do?” He scowls at me.

“You should have seen her lip tonight.”

Boone just stares at me.

I throw my hands in the air. “What?”

“Nothin’, man—I’ve just never seen you get heated about anyone before. You usually don’t give a f**k.” He starts in on his crunches again. “Why doesn’t she leave him?”

“She’s twenty-two, Boone. She thinks she’s trapped.”

“Trapped with a whole lot of fancy shit,” he puffs out.

“The guy treats her like a servant and he hits her. She made a mistake, marrying him.”

He pauses, resting on his elbows, regarding me with recognition in his eyes. “And are you making an even bigger mistake? Because f**king with Viktor Petrova’s wife will not end well for you, my friend . . .” He shakes his head, his mouth open like he’s holding back from saying something. “Just make sure it’s worth it.”

“I’m not doing anything with Alex,” I lie.

His brow pops up. “She goes by Alex now?”

“Alex, Alexandria. Whatever. The point is . . .” What is the point? Viktor beats his wife and . . . what? “The point is don’t ever repeat any of this to Rust or anyone else because he will probably hurt her for it.”

“Repeat what? I didn’t hear shit.” He rolls over onto his stomach for his push-ups.

I head back to my room, slightly more calm. Checking my phone, I see that Alex hasn’t texted again and I don’t know how to respond to her just yet, other than to say, “Call the police and leave the ass**le.” My gut tells me Viktor would get off and Alex would pay for reporting him.