Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(87)

“Just because that friend of his reacted the way he did doesn’t mean Viktor is capable of the same.” Even I don’t believe those words as they come out of my mouth, but I’ll say anything right now to convince her to come home with me for just one more night. We can talk. We can figure this out, together.

“I met that guy, Jesse,” she says, her voice wobbling with fear. “I sat next to him in a lawn chair and talked to him about buying organic pork instead of regular pork. He seemed like a normal guy. A nice guy. He brought his wife her drinks and had his arm around her most of the night, and I remember wishing my husband was like that with me. I wasn’t afraid of him. I’m afraid of Viktor. I think a part of me always has been.” A bitter laugh escapes her lips. “What did I honestly think I was going to do? Tell Viktor I want a divorce, pack a bag, and move in with you? He isn’t the kind of man who will accept that. And if he even suspects that something has happened between us, he wouldn’t let you off.”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“No, Jesse. It was one thing when I thought it might earn me some bruises. But this . . .” She grits her teeth. “I’m going to leave him. But it may just take a while. And I need to be smart about it. That means you need to go, now. Please.”

“What if he hurts you again?” I can’t keep my voice from cracking.

Her fingertips find my mouth, a soft smile settling on her lips. “I won’t give him a reason to. I’ll be fine, Jesse. Don’t worry.”

She disappears behind the heavy door and the deadbolt clicks.

Deep down, as much as I hate it, I know she’s right. I shouldn’t have shown up here like this.

If I don’t smarten up, my feelings for her are going to get her hurt.

I step out from the can to find a line of greasy mechanics standing at the edge of an open bay door, the cold late-November temperature flooding the garage.

The engine’s purr is unmistakable.

“Nice work,” Tabbs offers as I settle into the open space between him and Zeke, the freshly painted silver Aston Martin sitting like a show car smack-dab in the middle of the parking lot.

I barely glance at it, too busy staring at the woman standing behind it.

She’s hidden, disguised as the rich trophy wife of a Russian mobster again—her cotton-candy pink coat a bright spot in the cold, overcast day—but I see the real girl underneath.

I haven’t heard her voice or touched her body in three weeks. It’s been agonizing.

“Welles!” My head snaps to Miller, standing with a sharply dressed Viktor. “Get over here.”

Shit. I close the distance to them and Miller promptly leaves, as if he’s not privy to the conversation we’re about to have.

“Hello, Jesse.” Viktor’s accent sends prickles down my spine. “What do you think of the car?”

“Looks incredible. They did a good job on the bodywork. Still running well?”

He strolls toward it—and Alex—forcing me to follow. “Yes. I wanted to take it out for one drive before parking it for the winter.” He pauses. “I have another job for you, if you are interested. It is for a friend of mine. A time-sensitive restoration.”

I keep my gaze to the ground, afraid I’ll get caught staring at his wife. “What does that mean?”

“It means that when the car arrives, it must be restored quickly.”

“What kind of car?”

“Those are details for a later date.”

Fuck. Here we go. I’m no idiot, especially now that I have a better understanding of who Viktor really is. We’re not talking about a pet project in his garage anymore and I don’t want to be in this guy’s pocket. “I’ll pass. But thanks.”

“I will give you some time to think about it. The payment will be significant.” He reaches a hand out for Alex. She comes without hesitation, close enough for him to lean in and kiss her right in front of me. I turn my attention to the car, my teeth cracking against each other. And yet I can’t help but inhale, desperate to fill my nostrils with her perfume again. The scent of her has long since disappeared from my sheets. “I should go away more often. I came back from Russia to the woman I first married,” he says. Then, “Think about it, Jesse.” He rounds the car, leaving Alex to climb into the passenger side on her own. She does so without so much as a glance at me.

It’s as if we don’t even know each other.

Boone appears next to me as they speed away, my eyes trailing them. “What’d he want?”

“He wants me to rebuild another engine, for his friend this time. I said no. It sounds shady.”

“It is.” He pauses, and I wonder if he’s going to elaborate. He’s been out with Rust a lot more lately, working his way into “the circle.” “The cars that need work are lower-risk and therefore cheaper to lift. He can flip them and then sell them for a ton of money without the buyer knowing that a week before, the car they’re buying was a hunk of junk sitting under a tarp in a storage garage. Most of the time, the owner doesn’t even know the car is gone before its wheels are rolling across foreign soil.”

“Smart, if he has some idiot to do the work for him.”

“Yeah. His last guy is doing ten to fifteen for robbery. I guess he was hoping to rope you in as the replacement.”