“What’s going on?” I ask when I meet him outside.
He clears his throat. “Sir, I was running routine checks on the day’s security footage when I noticed something in the feed.”
“Go on.”
“A white van appeared around 6:16 P.M. No plates. A package was thrown from the passenger side window right onto the property.”
I narrow my eyes. “It has to be Sobakin.”
“Gotta be, right?” he agrees. “The thing is, I had the boys comb through the gardens in search of this package and they came up empty. I looked myself and—nothing.”
I frown. “That makes no sense. It has to be on the grounds somewhere.”
“I’m not sure how, but this package seems to have disappeared into thin—”
“Wait,” I snap as my voice cuts through the air like a freshly sharpened blade. “Where was the package thrown?”
“Right by the southwestern wall, pakhan.”
I grit my teeth. I fucking knew it.
Alyssa was lying to me about the sex toys. The thought that she could be on Boris Sobakin’s payroll crosses my mind again. But with her wide-eyed innocence… I just can’t see it. No one’s that good an actress.
“I’ve arranged for another search—”
“Don’t bother. I know where it is.” I move past him and make a beeline for the shack cowering in the shadows of my mansion. My face sours as I charge toward it.
When I reach the stoop, I pound on Alyssa’s door and wait for her to answer. The lights are on inside, so she must be home. A package. The fuck is Sobakin throwing a package at my house for? And what role does Alyssa have to play in all this? Why would she steal it? Who is she working for?
I’ve heard the little kiska scream once.
Let’s see how she screams under different circumstances.
Still no answer. I knock again. This time, a little louder, a little more insistent. I wonder if she’s screening me out. This fly might be better caught with honey than with vinegar.
I send a quick text to Detective Vincent Imbroglio, one of my plants in the LAPD. Need a favor at the little shack next to my place. Keep your uniform on.
The message goes through right before Alyssa opens the door. She’s changed into a tight pair of jeans and a white tank top. Her blonde hair flows down her shoulders, almost reaching her breasts, and those cerulean eyes of hers are wide and rippling with emotion.
Curiosity? Unease? Fear?
Only time will tell.
She doesn’t exactly look happy to see me. “Hey,” she replies uncertainly. “Is, uh, something wrong?”
I look past her into her cramped, messy living room. I’m not about to fuck up this extraction by going in guns blazing. Honey, not vinegar.
“First off, I want to apologize.”
She flinches. “For what?”
“I might have forgotten my manners for a bit. I don’t usually fuck my guests on the dining room table.”
She goes pink instantly and the effect is… well, “adorable” is the only word for it. Her rosy cheeks in combination with that golden hair and those translucent blue irises are making me hard all over again.
Focus, asshole.
“Don’t worry,” she mumbles. “I’m not gonna be a problem.”
That takes me off-guard. Of all the responses I’d been expecting, that certainly wasn’t one. “Why would I worry?”
She arches an eyebrow, her eyes darting past me for a moment. “You’re here to make sure I won’t get all needy and clingy, aren’t you?” she asks. “You’re worried that because I’m your neighbor, things will get messy. Am I right?”
She’s more right than she knows.
But I’m still not a hundred percent sure that she knows anything. Maybe she has my package, but if she hasn’t opened it yet, I can retrieve it and walk away from her with the situation contained.
“Something like that.”
“Well, like I said, you don’t have to worry about me. I may blush a lot, but I know how casual sex works and I know how men like you work, too. I don’t have any expectations of you. I won’t be knocking at your door tomorrow asking when you’re buying me dinner and meeting my parents.”
I step forward, right into her space. “You have no clue how this works, narushitel. You’ve never met a man like me before now.” I see her cowering, so I tone it down ever so slightly. “Still, I’m glad to see we’re on the same page.”
“So—we’re good?” She sounds hopeful. Her hand on the door is tightening, eager to close it in my face and bring this unexpected chapter of her life to a merciful close.
Not so fast, princess.
“Actually, no.” When I say that, she freezes, the color on her cheeks shifting from blush pink to deep red. “The second reason I came over is to check on you.”
She narrows her eyes. “Did you expect me to fall to pieces or something? Because I’m not gonna lie, you’re very good at sex, but I’m not as much of a fragile, bitter spinstress as my Garfield panties might’ve made it appear.”
The orange cat has a name. Who knew?
“There’s been a spate of breakins in the area and the cops just issued an alert that there was more suspicious activity around this neighborhood tonight. My security just informed me.”
She recoils in surprise. She looks rattled but I suppose that’s a natural response to hearing of suspicious activity in your neighborhood. Especially if you’re a single woman living on your own. I decide not to read too much into it…
Yet.
“Oh… Uh, okay. I-I should probably go check on Mrs. Heidegger.”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t be walking around on your own at this time, Alyssa.”
She opens her mouth to say something else, but then her eyes dart past me and she retreats backward into her foyer. “Wait… who’s that?”
I turn to Vincent and feign unfamiliarity. His mustache twitches as he does the same. “Good evening, Officer,” I greet. “Everything alright?”
“Good evening, Mr.—” Vincent makes a show of looking down at this phone before he looks back up at me. “—Bugrov?”
“That’s right.”
“Your home was broken into last night, am I correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Vincent nods. “I’m here because we received a dispatch signal.” He makes eye contact with Alyssa. “Apparently, there’s been some suspicious activity around your house, too, ma’am.”
Alyssa looks borderline panicked now. “S-suspicious activity… what does that mean?”
“It means that there are people skulking around this neighborhood looking for trouble. It’s possible drugs are involved. You live alone, ma’am?”
Alyssa nods. “Yes.”
“Mind if I take a look around the premises?”
“Inside the house?” she balks.
Hiding something in there, kiska? I wonder to myself. While Alyssa is focused on Vincent, I take out my phone and type a quick text to Ratimir. I’m at the front door of the shack. Go around back and break a window. I need a diversion.