Courted by Karma (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) Page 10

  Unconsciously, my hand reached to touch my cheek. It was still tender this morning. I take care of my own personal problems and didn’t need Luke running interference for me or getting involved in girl stuff.

  I shrugged and answered truthfully, “She told me you weren’t there. I guess you’ll have to ask her what her problem was and why she was freaking out.”

  Luke’s glance noted my gesture, but he only replied, “I’ll talk to her later.”

  “So what’s her deal? Does she act this way all the time?”

  My Hero met my eyes and replied evenly, “Without telling any secrets out of turn, Svetlana has had a miserable life due to bad luck and bad choices. I know you are a woman that respects privacy, Anabel, so you’ll understand I can’t tell you more.”

  “That’s cool with me,” I agreed readily, smiling derisively at Luke’s well-chosen words. Getting hoisted on my own petard was always fun. Anyway, I was thankful to be spared the gruesome details on how tough Svetlana’s life has been.

  Bad luck and bad choices usually meant bad childhood years and bad men. Partner that with drugs or crime, or both, and the names may change but the stories seldom do. What more needed to be said? Besides, a rotten life was no excuse for a grown woman to behave so badly. I only cared to understand the role she plays in Luke’s life and how much I would have to put up with her.

  I shrugged. “So tell me what you are comfortable sharing because, like I said before, it’s obvious to me something’s going down. If you are going to be hanging around my people, I want to be prepared.”

  Luke’s long fingers easily circled my bicep and he teased, “Okay, tough girl.” He smiled when I flexed my little muscle with a smirk. “That’s cool with me, too. It’s why we are having this talk. There shouldn’t be any danger or I’d never involve you, but I agree you should be aware.”

  Frowning for a second over this non-involvement comment, I had to reluctantly agree that, in this instance, Luke was right. Were I in his position, nobody in my life would be put around certain danger that wasn’t trained to deal with it professionally.

  “That makes sense to me, please go on.”

  He kissed my cheek and pulled me in his arms while murmuring, “Have I told you lately how I love it when you’re sensible?”

  I giggled against his neck. “Gee, I wonder why? I saw what you normally deal with in action last night. You’re such a brave, strong warrior!”

  Pulling back and seeing the glint in his eyes, I laughed again. Giving him a long, soft kiss I encouraged, “Okay, make me aware. Then you can get me home.” I pouted playfully. “Since you aren’t going to be any fun and let me do dirty, naked things while straddling your lap, I have a long list of boring chores to do before the store opens.”

  “Aren’t you the poor, deprived baby?” Luke’s eyes were narrowed and glittering now, but his expression gave nothing more away, as he continued with his “Anabel Awareness” talk.

  “Svetlana has worked in our company for the last year. Originally, she knew my mother.” He nodded that nose at me. “I told you my mom’s an attorney? Damaris has a firm that is small, but very well-known for going balls to the wall for women in ugly, contested divorce scenarios. She got called from a colleague to assist with Svetlana and ended up taking her under the Drake family wing, as my father calls it.” He smiled a little and shook his head at a thought. “Mom’s a tiger for downtrodden women. She doesn’t have much patience or a very good bedside manner, though. She leaves that up to my dad, he’s much nicer.”

  I laughed at this and was entranced getting a peek into Luke’s family life. Having no parents, I knew little about the day-to-day workings of a marriage. I tried to picture a fierce, Greek attorney married to a patient, Midwestern pastor and Luke as their only child.

  I couldn’t get past the image of seeing Luke in his bunk bed every night playing with his favorite toy; a miniaturized version of the virile man whose lap I was sitting on.

  “Svetlana’s a linguist,” My brows skyrocketed in astonishment at this fact dropped casually from Luke’s lips, “and knows several Russian languages. It’s very helpful in a business such as ours.”

  I couldn’t get past seeing Svettie at her desk and talking like a lisping child while feverishly scheduling Luke on missions to keep him away from Northfield.

  The commie-kaze was totally hung up on Luke. It was completely obvious now the reason she reacted to my name how she did, and why she was so upset at my presence. I still didn’t get the whole An-a-bel the Cow thing, unless perhaps seeing me dressed like a steam punk pygmy soldier didn’t impress upon her the depths of my beauteously blonde magnificence. Regardless, it was clear she hero worshipped my Hero and considered me the threat that I am.

  ‘I could only hope she comes decked out in all her white fur to Thanksgiving dinner. Stella will have a field day dressing her down!’ I bit my cheek at the image of that thought, too.

  Luke’s voice hardened. “I can’t share specifics on Svetlana’s past, that’s her story to tell, but I’ll tell you why she’s here at my farm this weekend. She’s a witness for the prosecution against her old boyfriend. We’ll call him Boris. Boris is the money man for a Russian crime boss whose main claim to fame is running drugs and girls. Very young girls. Svetlana’s old boyfriend Boris is considered a big catch by the Feds.”

  My mind instantly scanned for any info I may have caught on TV, but Crookie’s right—much like the weather forecasts, I just don’t pay attention to the news on a regular basis. It did sound like an exciting episode I’d recently caught on Law and Order, Criminal Intent. Those witnesses were picked off like soup cans on a fence railing, one after the other, by a sharp-shooting assassin.

  “What are we calling the Russian crime boss? Can his name be Radu?”

  Luke eyed me. “I thought we were calling him the Russian crime boss. Why Radu?”

  I made a face of distaste. “He was Vlad’s brother and a bad dude.”

  Luke had that arrested look on his face. “The only Vlad that comes to mind is Vlad the Impaler and you don’t mean…” Luke chuckled in surprise at my nodding head. “You do mean Vlad the Impaler?”

  “He was given that name long after he was dead and gone. To his people, Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia was considered a hero for beating the crap out of the Ottoman Empire when nobody else had.”

  Luke’s eyes widened with interest, but he was skeptical. “If I am remembering my history, it was documented that Vlad impaled thousands and was the inspiration for the story of Dracula. I’m very curious, why you think it’s his brother who’s the bad dude of that pair?”

  I waved a hand and replied, “It’s convoluted, but when they were young the brothers were hostages of the Turks to keep their father, Vlad II, in line. Then Hungarian Boyars killed Vlad II and their oldest brother. In the meantime, Radu was disloyal to his own blood,” I snorted in disgust. “He converted to Islam, the big baby, and he ended up attacking his former homeland. Not our Vlad. He hated the Ottoman Empire AND the Hungarians for what they had done to his family and his kingdom. He eventually regained the throne of his birthright again and kicked some major ass to get his kingdom back in business. Sure, his methods of dealing with his enemies were a little cruel, but sometimes you have to use methods that send a definite message to restore law and order.” I stared at Luke’s face unseeingly, as I pictured the life back then in my mind. “Granted, impaling everyone who crossed him may seem a little barbaric to some now,” I shrugged cheerfully and kissed Luke’s cheek, “but it sure worked for him. Six centuries later, I’d say Vlad’s message is still pretty clear.”

  After a moment of Luke staring back at me with an enigmatic expression and without speaking, I raised my brows in return. Maybe Luke didn’t enjoy history as much as I did.

  Luke shook his head slightly and went on, “There are four witnesses testifying against Boris, not just Svetlana. Her testimony is pretty minor, actually. The problem is the Feds have recently uncovered mor
e dirt on Boris. If he’s convicted of these charges, it changes his prospects drastically. Instead of doing an easy couple of years in a minimum security prison for some minor tax issues, he’s looking at hard time. Maybe even a life sentence.

  “Radu,” Luke continued, while smiling at my hard squeeze of approval, “knows how these things work. Depending on the depth of his loyalty, Boris could give up Radu to the Feds to save his ass. Now, Radu can try to eliminate Boris, who is protected by the Feds, or eliminate the need for Boris to talk. My mother was informed one witness has gone missing as of two days ago.”

  “That’s bad,” I whispered under my breath, listening intently.

  Luke shrugged. “Could be. The circumstances are not suspicious enough to be considered foul play by the authorities,” His brows rose at the vagaries of law enforcement and I made a face in agreement, “but we had a family conference. Not only is Svetlana’s scared stiff of Radu and his enforcer, but Radu is a bad dude and he’s cornered. We decided not to chance it.

  “Svetlana moved to Chicago over a year ago. She’s changed her last name, but like you thought,” Luke added dryly, but with fondness in his voice, “she’s not exactly a professional operator. She’s a passionate, impulsive woman that could easily make mistakes leaving a trail behind her a mile wide. We’ve tried to cover them, but it’s just a matter of time before an experienced tracker would locate her in Chicago. She is due to testify next week. Until then, we’ve decided it’s smart she stays out of Chicago and under the radar this weekend.”

  “Very smart,” I agreed. Luke and his family must really like Svetlana. I considered it very generous of him to describe her bizarre, hysterical behavior as passionate or impulsive. She seemed like a complete dipshit to me and nothing Luke told me has changed this opinion.

  ‘She’s Russian, and so it’s par for the course she has a tragic past. I will probably have to feel sorry for her at some point, but I draw the line at pitying her.’

  I sighed, but told Luke thanks for cluing me in. This sensible, cold-hearted, killer of a woman gave him a final kiss. I crawled back to my own seat and buckled in. There was a lot to absorb and I needed quiet time to rejuvenate. We drove north for a while on the black top. I saw a county road sign. Memorizing the number, I was dozing off with my head against the window for the rest of the ride back to Northfield when I had one last thought.

  ‘Hard luck life, a criminal boyfriend, a pimping crime boss and his enforcer aside, it didn’t mean the Svettie-Yeti got a get-out-of-jail-free card for slapping me and then lying about it.’

  Chapter V

  “Every Breath You Take” by The Police

  Wednesday, 11/21/12

  7:35 AM

  I opened my eyes to the truck slowing down. We weren’t at my building yet, but we were approaching Northfield. Luke was turning off Hwy 3 to either stop at McDonald’s or the SA gas station.

  Luke noticed my stirring and smiled. “Hey sleepyhead, I’m hitting the drive-thru for a McMuffin. Do you want anything?”

  My stomach felt concave from hunger, but I shook my head. “No thanks, I don’t do the Evil Arches. According to Stella, they sexually molest their chickens at their factory farms, or something disgusting like that. Man, I used to love Egg McMuffins, too.” I groaned dispiritedly because having convictions, even confused and half-hearted convictions, is no fun and that’s the truth. “But you go right ahead and enjoy.”

  “Sexually molest, huh?” Luke’s grin was broad, even as he shook his head.

  Smiling, I was languidly stretching my arms and legs when my glance caught a flash of blue out of my peripheral vision. Turning my head sharply, I checked out the SA parking lot on my right to see what had snagged my attention.

  Stretches forgotten, I was wide awake and alert. Hurriedly, I shrugged on my trench coat and buttoned it up to the chin while saying. “Hey Luke, can I ask you for a favor? Make that two favors.”

  Luke’s eyebrows went up at my urgent tone. He replied easily. “For you, Princess, I can go as high as three favors.”

  “I’m so honored!” My smile was wide as I plucked his sunglasses out of their holder. “Then you won’t mind if I borrow these for a minute. My first favor shouldn’t tax your powers too much, Please don’t let my cousin Candy step foot onto your property ever again.”

  “Oh.”

  I didn’t wait to decipher Luke’s deer in the headlights look at my favor, but rushed on with my second request, “Can you turn right into the SA parking lot before going to McDonald’s, please. I need to do something that will only take a minute.”

  “Okay.” Luke threw me a questioning look, but turned right without comment.

  I pointed to the left. “If you could drive over there, and then park near that mound of snow so that your truck blocks the view from the street. Yes, perfect!” I clapped my hands and threw open my door. Pausing, I turned back to Luke. “I’ll explain in a sec, but do not get out of this truck unless its life or death, you hear me?”

  Luke slowly raised his hands in mock alarm and drawled, “I hear you, Mistress Anabel.”

  “Good.” I waved my cautionary finger one last time at his entertained, but quizzical expression and closed the door.

  Tugging down Crookie’s hat firmly, I rounded the truck and approached the light blue, Honda Civic. In my socks, my feet made no noise as I padded across the wet, slushy surface of the parking lot. Right now, I’d gladly walk barefoot and not notice the cold.

  My cousin Candy was leaning over the front wheel of her car on the driver’s side. She hadn’t looked up at the sound of Luke’s truck pulling up a dozen yards from her. She was messing with the air hose and looked more petulant than normal.

  We were on the desolate side of SA. Candy’s car and Luke’s truck were the only vehicles parked here. Otherwise, my only audience was the huge garbage dumpsters along the back property line and the air hose mounted on the side wall of SA near Candy’s parked Civic. Growing ever taller over the course of the entire winter, a towering mound of icy, dirty snow had been pushed to the center of this back area when the snowplows were cleaning off the vast parking lot around the gas station.

  It wasn’t too early for people heading to work, but any customers filling their tanks were parked out front where the pumps were located, or they were off getting their vehicles cleaned at the carwash on the other side of the building.

  It was a heaven sent opportunity for our long overdue cousinly chat.

  I stooped and gathered up a slushy ball of filthy snow in my left hand. Packing it loosely, I walked soundlessly up to the back of Candy’s car. My eyes skimmed in all directions without tilting my head. There were no cameras mounted on this side of the building or in the parking lot that I could detect. Since there is nothing of real value on this side of SA, there most likely isn’t a reason for security cameras. I highly doubted Candy would be reporting our chat to the authorities, anyway.

  The twin lasers burning holes into my back have to be Luke’s watchful eyes. Maybe he doesn’t know Candy’s car by sight, but she’s standing in plain view. I’m sure he recognizes who I’m walking towards by now. I was rounding her back bumper before Candy is aware enough of her surroundings to notice me.

  “Tsk, Tsk, you should keep a better eye out when you are alone in a deserted spot like this,” I warned in an even voice.

  Candy’s face was a surprised blank as she stared at me with no recognition. Her mouth opened and closed without a sound, as if trying to recall a name. Eyelashes triple coated with mascara blinked once. Instinctively, her brown cow-eyes bulged a little more than normal in reaction to the implied threat in my tone. Still, she stood there frozen in place while she tried to connect the dots in her brain.

  Who was the short woman approaching her in the long trench coat, no shoes, a ginormous hat with side flaps covering all her hair, and wearing big sunglasses? I didn’t much resemble Cousin Anabel of Bel’s Books, that’s for sure.

  On the other hand, Candy was her p
erfectly immaculate self. She has on a pastel pink coat, winter white slacks, and tan pumps. There’s an incredibly ugly, but expensive orange scarf arranged around her neck just so. Her hair was stripes of white-and-gold-blonde accented by black roots, and teased into submission under a shellacking helmet of product. Her colorful make-up was applied heavily and flawlessly. She’s dressed as if she has somewhere important to be and actually looks quite nice.

  It was a real pleasure to bring up my left hand and smash the dirty snow into her face. I went ecstatic when, holding her head with my right hand wrapped in her silk scarf, I relentlessly ground the icy mass in her face and eyes. Her muffled screams turned into gagging cries when some of the dirty snow filled her mouth. Too busy spitting out snow; she was unresisting as I hurried her along towards the huge pile of snow a few feet away.

  “Whoops!” I cried out, laughing grimly. Checking out my handiwork, the evil sound of my mirth frightened even me. “That must have been for stealing my gun, you thieving bitch!”

  There was blue eyeshadow, black liner and mascara, red lipstick, bronze foundation, and pink blush smeared everywhere on her face. Candy was blindly scrubbing at her eyes to wipe the colorful sludge off while screeching curses. This just made the mess worse.

  I held the back of her coat, and with the scarf at her neck wound tight around my right fist, I propelled her face first into the tall mound of snow. It was full frontal body contact and I screamed out my joy in a rebel yell. Throwing all my weight against her back, I smashed her into the sloppy pile. Then I did it again while howling triumphantly. Her arms are flailing, but they were easily avoided. Candy is in such shock at the abruptness of the attack, she wasn’t putting up much of a fight.

  I started scooping snow nonstop from the pile with my left hand and wiping her in it repeatedly. Her hair, her face, her clothes, and even down inside the front of her coat—everywhere I could reach was fair game to be slathered. Soon she was a sodden, dripping, shrieking and ruined mess. The whole time, I laughed maniacally and kept at it like an automated machine on a factory line from hell. I ignored her cries and pleas for me to stop. Wherever she put up her hands to shield herself offered no protection from my blitz attack, I only rubbed her with filthy snow somewhere else.