Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) Page 11

  Yet she was supposed to be protecting him. She had tried to move first, had tried to push him to safety as she reached for the gun in her bag. But she had failed.

  If not for Denny’s men, Nikolai could have been shot. He could be seriously hurt, or worse. And it would have been her fault.

  Denny had been right: she wasn’t properly trained. She was an accountant, not a field agent. When it came down to it, her instincts might be fast and accurate, but her speed and strength were lacking.

  Which wouldn’t do Nikolai any good.

  Even the gun had been worthless. It was still tucked securely in her bag, but was worth more as a paperweight than as a means of defense. She wasn’t—and wouldn’t be—fast enough to reach it.

  As a forensic accountant, she wasn’t prepared for this. How could she be? But no one had expected this to get so out of control

  “Ms. Reeves, I’m sorry to interrupt.” The slightly grating voice startled Bobbi and she nearly fell off the bleacher at the sound. She bolted upright and immediately winced at the throbbing in her temple, her hand automatically going up to cover it as she faced the owner of the voice.

  George Toomey was standing a few feet away, a look of impatient sympathy on his face.

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed. I heard about the incident yesterday.” He stepped closer to her, and she instinctively slid a little further back, suddenly uncomfortable and not sure why.

  “Oh. No, I’m fine. A little shaken up but—”

  “Good, good.” He stepped closer still, and it wasn’t until she looked down that she realized he was holding a file out for her. She reached down and took it, was ready to open it when he stopped her. “That is an updated schedule list, you can sort through it later. I was wondering, however…”

  He paused, a frown creasing his brow, his nose and lips bunched as if he had just gotten a whiff of something foul smelling. She straightened and stared at him for several minutes, then motioned for him to continue when it became obvious he was waiting for something. “Yes?”

  “I was just concerned about the unscheduled meeting yesterday. As his personal assistant, hired and paid for by the team, it is your responsibility to ensure that Niko’s schedule is adhered to at all times.”

  She shook her head, letting her confusion show. “I’m sorry but…did he miss something yesterday? There wasn’t anything I was aware of—”

  “No, no, not at all. It’s just…there is also an expectation that I—we—also know where he is at all times. A dual-schedule, if you will. I’m sure you understand.”

  Bobbi stared at him, watching as a mottled flush crept over his pasty complexion, and let her confusion show. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Are you saying that you want me to keep tabs on him?”

  “I wouldn’t phrase it quite that—”

  “Or you want me to spy on him?”

  “Not at all!” He sputtered, leaned away from her, his gaze darting around the rink. “It’s just that Niko has shown a tendency to wander when he shouldn’t, and I’ve learned that it’s much easier if I—we—know where he is at all times.”

  “So you do mean keep tabs on him. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted me to report on his every move.” She tried to keep the judgmental sarcasm from her voice but obviously failed. “His meeting yesterday was an impromptu one. I didn’t even know about it, so I wouldn’t have been able to report his every move to you anyway.” Toomey straightened and leaned even closer, an expression of imperialism crossing his face.

  “I would like to remind you that I am the one who hired you, Ms. Reeves. Organizing and reporting his schedule is your sole responsibility. That includes letting me know his whereabouts.” He took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket, handing it to her and continuing before she could interrupt. “I realize that you may not have known that. I also realize that you may not always have a way to contact me, so I’ve taken the liberty of providing you with a dedicated cell phone. All the necessary numbers have been preprogrammed for your convenience.”

  He forced the phone into her hand and she stared down at it stupidly. Was he serious? Paranoia or not, this would be the part in a book where all signs and arrows immediately pointed to Toomey as the villain. This may not be a book, and the jury was still out on the paranoia part, but there was no way she was just going to blindly carry the phone around with her.

  Instead of voicing her thoughts, she merely placed the phone on the bench beside her then nodded in the direction of the rink where all the players were now leaving. Nikolai met her gaze and smiled, then motioned with his head toward the locker room before walking away.

  “Don’t look now, Mr. Toomey, but I think your boy is going to take a piss.”

  Toomey flinched at her vulgarity, looked behind him to see the last of the players leave the rink, then huffed off in their direction. She watched him leave, feeling chilled and vaguely amused at the same time. Tucking the updated file into her bag with all her other files, she hoisted it to her shoulder and stood, ignoring the thin silver phone on the bench. Bobbi headed toward the locker room doors, pausing long enough to speak with one of Denny’s men.

  “There’s a phone on the bench where I was sitting. Have your boss check it out and get back to me.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Bobbi leaned forward in her seat, her eyes following the forward motion of the puck on the ice below. A player from the other team sped toward the net and pulled back, taking aim, as the crowd held its breath. Nikolai burst through the line and dove, throwing himself in front of the net just as the puck shot forward, hitting him and deflecting harmlessly away. One of the Banners reached out and took possession of the puck, and play moved toward the other end of the ice.

  Bobbi winced as she resumed her seat, wondering how Nikolai—how all of them—did it, pushed and abused their bodies night after night. A surge of heated pleasure spread through her as she thought of how Nikolai would innocently ask her to kiss his bruises later that night.

  And how she would happily comply.

  The two of them had settled into a comfortable routine during the last few days since the shooting. Bobbi knew deep down that it wouldn’t last—couldn’t last—but she refused to dwell on that. For right now, what they had was working. She organized his schedule, shuttled him to an occasional appointment and followed him around during the day, his faithful personal assistant, reporting the bare minimum back to Toomey on her own phone.

  And at night…the night was just for them.

  She had the odd feeling that they were playing house, but she pushed it away. There were no more verbal declarations of love from Nikolai, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was still telling her how he felt with his every kiss, his every touch.

  Much like she was trying to tell him.

  She forced the thought away and scanned the crowd around her, glad she had chosen to sit somewhere besides the owner’s box above her. Denny was supposed to meet her here, something she wasn’t looking forward to, and the seats closer to the ice, with the loud crowd and noise of the game, would help prevent their conversation from being overheard.

  The horn signaled the end of the second period, and she stood and clapped with the rest of the crowd as the players skated off the ice, the Banners leading by two goals. Bobbi glanced around once more, not surprised to see Denny fighting the crowd streaming toward the concourse as he made his way down the stairs toward her.

  He stood out in his suit and tie as he pushed past the last of the crowd and walked toward her, lowering himself in the empty seat beside her.

  “Nice job of blending in.”

  He tossed the phone in her lap, ignoring her. She let it rest there for a minute, then picked it up and studied it.

  “The phone is clean. The guys tore every bit of it apart but came up empty. It’s just a phone.”

  “Are you sure?” He gave her a look that was pure incredulity. “Sorry. I was certai
n…the timing seemed really suspicious.”

  Denny sat back in the seat and crossed one ankle over his knee. “Don’t be. I would have been suspicious myself. We ran a check on Toomey. There’s nothing there that we can see. It appears that he’s nothing more than what he says he is.”

  The news was disappointing. Bobbi’s gut was telling her there was some hidden reason he wanted her to keep tabs on Nikolai, but she didn’t know why. She had been hoping that something would have turned up. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It means enough to me. Have you come up with anything else?”

  Bobbi shifted in the seat and looked around them, thinking about the file she had found in her bag—the file that only Nikolai could have placed there. Her bag was with her, always, no matter where she went.

  Except at Nikolai’s house.

  When she first discovered it, she had briefly thought it had been the file Toomey had given her at the practice rink. A search of her bag proved that theory wrong, and a closer look at the contents of the file assured her that Toomey would never give her the information contained within.

  And she was still trying to make sense of everything. Articles, newspaper clippings, spreadsheets that appeared to be some kind of coded financial statements…and a memory stick that contained even more coded files. None of it made sense yet. But added to what else Nikolai had personally given her, had told her…

  Bobbi took a deep breath and wondered how much to tell Denny, wondered where to draw the line of betrayal. Did it really matter? The betrayal was there and couldn’t be prevented because it had already happened. She was perpetrating it each day just by being with Nikolai.

  She swallowed past the lump of guilt and ignored the nausea that accompanied the realization, torn between doing her job and the emotions battling inside her, knowing that no matter what the outcome, the result was going to be painful when this game was over.

  “Bobbi. Do you have anything else?” Denny’s impatient voice brought her out of her warring subconscious, and she shook her head.

  “Nothing except that Nikolai is essentially broke. His agent gives him a monthly allowance, enough for him to meet his daily needs, and that’s it. The house, such as it is, is paid for.” She took a deep breath and looked around to make sure nobody was listening, then continued in a lower voice. “Any salary checks he receives are signed directly over to TBL. His monthly allowance check, for what little it’s worth, is written from what looks like his agent’s personal account. Wherever the money’s going, Nikolai is out of it before he even sees it.” Bobbi reached into her bag and pulled out a folded slip of paper and handed it to Denny. “Here’s a copy of the latest allowance check.”

  Denny took it from her and placed it in his jacket pocket without looking at it. “How did you manage to get a copy?”

  Bobbi shook her head, still not believing it herself. “I got the original from Nikolai. Right after he asked me to help with his checking account. Because he trusts me.”

  Denny must have sensed something in her tone of voice because he didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly. She waited for more questions, for a comment at the least, but there was only silence broken by the noise from the crowd returning to their seats. Bobbi wasn’t sure if she should thank him for being quiet, or if she should wait for the anvil to drop on her head.

  “He’s being extorted, Denny. To the tune of millions, and I don’t know why. If you could have seen him at his agent’s the other day…he just signed that contract. Didn’t read it, didn’t talk money, he just signed it. Even when I tried to stop him…” Bobbi closed her eyes against the sudden chill, this one having nothing to do with the temperature of the arena.

  “I thought Jacobs was going to stroke out, he looked so furious. Nikolai asked him to leave the room, then told me there were things I didn’t understand, that he couldn’t explain…which he said in Russian. Which I’m not supposed to understand. Then he asked if I trusted him and signed the contract anyway.”

  “You’re getting too involved, Bobbi. I suggest you start distancing yourself.” Denny’s voice was too loud, even to her, and she glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them.

  “Lower your voice, you’re drawing attention,” Bobbi warned in a hiss. Denny settled back in his seat, his attention on the ice as the arena lights dimmed and the players came out for the start of the third period. Bobbi ignored the tension and anger seething from him and looked for Nikolai in the player’s box, focusing on him, trying to draw strength just from the sight of him.

  “I can see you’re already making the mistake of confusing sex with love, Bobbi.”

  Denny’s flat voice and harsh words were a punch in her gut and she sat up straighter, determined not to let him see how badly his words affected her. “Screw you. I learned the mistake of confusing the two when I was with you, didn’t I?”

  He stiffened beside her but said nothing, which relieved her. She wasn’t able to deal with this now, wasn’t able to deal with him, as the old anger resurfaced. And it was just anger…at being used the way she had been years ago, as an end to a means.

  Much like what she was doing now.

  She pushed the harsh comparison away and did her best to focus on the game, trying to ignore the man beside her.

  “Does Petrovich have any living family?” The question pulled her gaze back to Denny. He was watching her, his eyes calculating and focused. She narrowed her own eyes, shaking her head.

  “No. Why?”

  “You asked me to check on adoptions at the Ruskov Orphanage. Petrovich visited there two days before terminating the contract with his original agency. He went back just hours after signing with TBL, stayed for one day, then immediately returned to the States. We’re still digging through whatever paperwork we can find but haven’t been able to come up with anything else.”

  Bobbi tensed at the speculation in his eyes, knowing that he was pursuing a lead, even if it was only a hunch—a hunch she had shared with him. She swallowed and nodded, waiting. “And you’re thinking…what?”

  “Any chance your boy was getting rid of a kid he didn’t want anyone to know he had?”

  The accusation hung in the air between them, shocking her. Bobbi’s initial reaction was to say no, the idea was ridiculous, that Nikolai had told her he had no children. But she didn’t say it out loud. The truth was, she didn’t know. And as much as she wanted to rush to his defense, to tell Denny he was being ridiculous, she couldn’t. Because she just didn’t know.

  But even if he did have a child…“So, what…you’re thinking millions of dollars in extortion to hide the fact that he had a kid and gave it up for adoption? That doesn’t make sense. Not nowadays.”

  Denny shrugged, his gaze still cold and calculating. “It would if there was something illegal about the adoption. If the orphanage was known for illegal activities involving the children there.”

  “What!”

  “We’re still digging, but it looks like the Ruskov Orphanage specializes in black market adoptions. And the adoptions aren’t necessarily to families.”

  The accusation cut deep through her, the implication leveling her. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tight around her middle, shaking her head in denial. She knew there were “orphanages” selling children into slavery and prostitution but to think…no, it was impossible. The Nikolai she knew would never do such a thing, knowingly or unknowingly.

  She straightened, her jaw clenched as she shot Denny a feral look. “You’re wrong. The timeline is wrong. You don’t agree to long-term extortion before the fact. You’re looking in the wrong direction.”

  He sat back in his seat and studied her. Bobbi knew how she must look and didn’t care. What he was implying was insane. She knew places like that existed, knew there were soulless people who fed on the depravity, knew there were monsters out there.

  Nikolai was not one of them.

  “You’re wrong,” she repeated, certain of her conviction. “
Dig deeper or look somewhere else. Find out more about the agent. There’s a connection there. I told you how Nikolai reacted when he threatened me, but there was fear there, too.”

  “Are you sure you’re not seeing something just because you want to see it?” Bobbi heard the underlying accusation in his voice but refused to acknowledge it.

  “I’m sure. Now do your job and find that connection. It’s there.”

  He shook his head and leaned closer, the look in his eyes both warning and dangerous. “I always do my job, Bobbi. Always. Now do yours and get me something I can use. You’re certain I’m wrong? Then prove it.”

  He shot her one last look then stood up, drawing impatient shouts from the crowd for blocking their view of the game as he walked away. She refused to stare after him, instead pretending to focus on the action on the ice in front of her. She suddenly envied Nikolai and the other players, wishing she could take her own aggressions out by their hard physical play.

  She clenched her fists together and bit down with her jaw. Denny was wrong, and she would prove it.

  **

  “Teach me to skate.”

  Nikolai looked over at Bobbi, noticed the way she fidgeted in the seat and repeatedly clenched and unclenched her hands. His beautiful one was restless tonight, but she would not tell him why. He downshifted to a stop at the traffic light and turned to her, noticing the play of light and shadow on her face.

  “And why do you wish to know how to skate?”

  She shrugged, still fidgeting, still not looking at him. He reached out and tugged at the strand of hair that curled around her cheek, feeling its softness between his fingers as he tucked it behind her ear. He smiled when she pressed her cheek against his palm before he moved away, and wondered if she even realized she did that.

  “I just want you to teach me, that’s all. It looks like it would be fun. And then you can show me how to play hockey.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “So now moe krasivejshee also wishes to play hockey. And this is because…?”