CHAPTER TWENTY:
VIKTOR
Viktor’s motorcycle was gassed up, shined, and sitting in the garage waiting for him. He rushed to it, climbed on, revved the engine, and took off down the drive. He had to get to Alexandra to keep her from spilling any information to Anatoly Popov and potentially endangering her own life.
“Please, please be safe,” Viktor whispered into the wind as he pulled onto the road. He was thankful for the blissfully minimal traffic, until he realized the congestion on the main road ahead. The bright red dots of tail lights trailed off into the distance and all four lanes of cars putted forward at a crawl.
Traffic was thick, but Viktor had no time to spare.
He veered between the lanes to drive on the white dotted line in the middle, then upped the throttle. The engine roared, and the speedometer climbed. 20 mph. 30. 40. Another bike appeared ahead, splitting lanes and riding the white line, as well, but not going nearly fast enough.
Victor veered around the right lane to get onto the shoulder, coming dangerously close to the edge of the road. Heads turned as he approached, cars honked, and someone even had the audacity to stick their middle finger out the window at him. He wanted to break the finger clean off, but instead of raging, he managed to turn his anger into focus.
He continued weaving through traffic, speeding so fast that the world was a blur, and praying for his wife’s safety. Streets and pedestrians passed at breakneck speed.
Until a wide truck appeared in the right lane. He slowed, easing his way between the truck and a sedan on the opposite side as he moved at a snail’s pace with what limited room he had. As he crept on, he could feel the clock running.
Again, he remembered Alexandra calling him a monster, and again, he swallowed down his sadness. Would that be the last conversation they had—him refusing to listen to her?
Even though he had continued to tell himself—no, lie to himself—that the affection he had shared with Alexandra had simply been to get her to yield to him and confess, he knew better.
Her dazzling smile, her cute ringing laugh, the smell and touch of her skin, how she could find optimism even in the darkest of times, her unending resolve: Viktor had fallen head over heels for her, and he was grateful with everything he had in his soul that she and her father were innocent.
He just prayed he wasn’t too late to make sure she knew it.
After a series of turns that cost him precious time, he zipped toward the address Sergei had given him, then slowed and frantically scanned the sidewalk for Alexandra. His heart crept into his throat, his hands shaking as he struggled to keep steady on the throttle and clutch.
Had he been too late? Just as he considered circling back and checking the block again, he saw long blonde hair and wanted to weep with relief.
Alexandra.
She was only a house away from Anatoly’s. Viktor pulled up to the side of the street, slowed, and called to her.
“Alexandra! Stop!”
Her head snapped toward him, and dismay twisted her face. “Viktor? What are you doing here?”
“Stop and come with me!” he called out to her, his eyes scanning both ways to try to find a way he could maneuver across the busy street to stop her.
“No, Viktor! I’ve had enough of this. Uncle Tolya will set everything straight.”
Alexandra looked unafraid, but Viktor was—for her.
“You’re in danger,” he told her, willing himself to remain calm so that he didn’t scare her away. “We need to go home. Now,” he added.
“And why should I trust you? You didn’t want to listen to me, so why should I listen to you?”
“I’m trying to protect you!”
“From what? The only person I need protection from right now is you!” Alexandra crossed her arms against her chest with the last word, and then kept walking.
Viktor hopped off the bike, finally understanding she wouldn’t join him, and popped down the kickstand in a hurry.
Only a few dozen more steps now, and Alexandra’s hand would be on Anatoly’s buzzer. The light from the streetlamps painted her in shadows—the closer she drew to the door, the darker it got. A sinking feeling tugged at his stomach, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that, if he let her go any farther, the shadows would suck her in and never let her back out.
He bolted across the street and down the sidewalk, sprinting toward her. She saw him approach and rushed up the front steps, reached for the door, and—
Viktor grabbed her.
“Let me go!” Alexandra kicked at him and struggled, but he held on. Clasping a hand over her mouth to keep her from making any more noise, he dragged her away from the house. Silently, he prayed no one would see him and think he was kidnapping her. All he wanted in the world right now was to keep her safe. His eyes darted up toward the security cameras near the door, and fear gripped him anew.
“We need to go,” he said. Alexandra thrashed like a fish caught in a net, but Viktor managed to get her safely down the front steps and back onto the sidewalk.
She landed a particularly painful blow to his shin. He hissed through his teeth and held her at arm’s length to face him. Alexandra slowed her struggling only when she saw his expression, and stared at him in confusion as he spoke.
“I promise, I believe you, and I swear on my life that your family is safe, but right now I need to make sure you are safe. I need you to be quiet for us, please. It is very important,” Viktor emphasized. With his words, she froze, and he loosened his grip upon seeing that she at least seemed ready to listen.
“Safe? Safe from what?”
Viktor considered his options. If he told her flat-out that her Uncle Tolya was the murderer, she might march back to his house to try to save him without listening first, just as she’d run off to save her father.
He took her hand with absolute tenderness and laced their fingers together, and then, silently, he led her away from Anatoly’s house, down the sidewalk and toward the bike. Alexandra looked suspicious and confused, but she didn’t fight him.
“I know I can be scary sometimes. I know I have hurt you in the past, and I am deeply sorry for not believing you when you said that you and your father were innocent.” Viktor’s eyes, usually so cold, brimmed with warmth as he glanced back to her, still pulling her along. Once they were across the street and standing by his bike, he pulled Alexandra in for a hug. Against his chest, she felt so small, and so cold.
At first, her arms hung limply at her sides, as though she was resisting. Gradually, though, her arms raised and wrapped around him. She pressed her head against the hard muscles of his chest and exhaled softly.
“You believe me?” she asked, speaking into the fabric of his shirt.
“I believe you.” Viktor tilted her face up by the chin and pressed their lips together. “Let’s get you home, and I will explain everything.”