The Bad Boy's Dance (34 page)

              He had a thick Russian accent, and as the tint of the metallic walls of the warehouse reflected off him, I caught a glimpse of feathery blonde hair. The way everyone listened and lowered their guns immediately was astonishing.

              I must have made a sound or something, because the next thing I knew, mystery man’s gaze had honed in on me.

             
Oh fudgeshixcrackersdaggum!

             
Mystery man tilted his head curiously. “It seems we have a new visitor, no? Who is this, Garibaldi?”

              Trevor snapped his fingers at me in summons.
Excuse me, did I look like a dog? Was there a Fido nametag on my blouse I couldn’t see?

              At the risk of being shot like hunter’s game, I walked forward stiffly, stopping beside Trevor, who was quick to make introductions. “This is Ivy Robello. You could say she’s a…friend of a friend.”

              I shot Trevor a quick glare. Even though I knew it would take less than a nanosecond for them to uncover my identity down to the brand of diapers I used as a baby- Pampers, or if Dad was in charge, a handy roll of toilet paper- I wasn’t comfortable tossing my full name around to gun-toting criminals.

             
You’re a criminal too, now. Aiding and abetting.

             
Sigh. I missed the days when the most excitement I got was from watching an episode of The Vampire Diaries.

             
So not the time to get lost in my own head. Or think about how much I want Nina Dobrev’s job. How’d she get so lucky? Then again, the actors are either married or way older than me, so it’d be a bit pedophilic honestly. But I’d be willing to make concessions-

              “IVY!”

              “What? What?”

              Trevor glowered at me, and I blinked at him. Shaking his head and muttering something about useless adolescents, he pushed me a few steps forward.

              The mystery man stepped towards me, waving away his bodyguards when they attempted to follow. Stopping in front of me, I tried not to flinch when he placed cool fingers under my chin, tilting my head left and right like he was examining a prized chicken before the slaughter.

              “Lovely. Ah, the flush of youth,” he mused, releasing my chin.

              I wasn’t paying much attention, to be honest. I was enraptured by his face.

              A multitude of scars marred his otherwise handsome features. A jagged wound from his eyebrow to his hairline, and two long others slashed across his cheeks. To make it even more interesting, he had a swirly, sinister-looking tattoo on his other cheek.

              He picked up my hand, breaking me from my obvious gawking. He kissed the back of my wrist and smiled.

              “I am Viktor Derevko, but you may call me Viktor.”

              Oh.

              My.

              Gobstoppers.

              “You’re Derevko?” I squeaked.

              “Indeed. Have you heard of me?”

              “Nope. Not a word. Zip. Squat.”

             
Why isn’t someone gagging me? If I was Derevko, I would have just shot me by now.

             
“Hmm,” he said curiously, black eyes studying me. He flicked his black orbs to Trevor and raised a single brow. “Shall we conduct business?”

              I stood to the side while foreign words were spoken, suitcases traded, guns touched, and tempers rose. It was a different language, from a different world I didn’t belong in. A glance at my watch confirmed that it was indeed dawn, and if I didn’t get home soon, I would be in deep pooh.

              It was surreal to think this was the man who had sent men-who could be among the ones here- to assault Asher. It sent my blood boiling, and I was unconsciously gnashing my teeth every time I heard his accented voice. The overwhelming urge to march up and smack him straight across the face was persistent.

              It also confirmed that Asher could never, ever find out about this.

              He would
explode
if he discovered I’d been caught up in the dealings, and that Viktor Derevko had caught wind of my existence. This man was unhinged, if what he’d done to Asher or the scarring on his face were a sign.

              As Trevor and Derevko shook hands, a loud pop song broke the terse silence.

              It took me a few second to realize it was coming from me.

             
“Eh, sorry,” I mumbled, quickly fumbling to extract my vibrating phone from my pocket. Silencing the call from Dana-why in the world was she calling me this late (early)?- I met the blank stares of the underworld criminals.

              “You can go ahead,” I said.

              Just in case, you know, they were waiting for my permission.

              “Until next time, my dear friend,” Derevko said elegantly, tipping his head towards Trevor. He spun on his heel and started walking towards the exi with his entourage on his tail, when he halted in front of me.

              It was a show of my self-control how I could swallow my complete disgust when he kissed my hand again. “We shall meet again, lovely Ivy. You can count on it.”

              With that chilling promise, he swept out, leaving the rest of us staring dumbly after him.

              Trevor looked at me and shrugged, looking oddly satisfied.

              “At least no one got shot this time.”

       
 
Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Shattered Illusions

Asher had been missing from school for two days.

              I’d called and texted him frequently, but without a single. The only reason I hadn’t gone to his house was a) I did not want to run into his freaky mother, and b) he might be caught up with ‘business’.

              Mrs. Knut was furious. The NDT was in less than two weeks, and half the performance was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t too concerned; we’d practiced enough to remember the moves, and the rest was a matter of synchronism.

              I headed downstairs Thursday morning to be greeted by the sight of Paul and Spencer sitting on the living room couch, battling it away on the X-Box. Mom and Dad had gone on another business trip to LA, so it was like a dream come true for the boys. Spencer was lounging in a tatty T-shirt and his boxers while Paul had at least thrown on jeans and a clean T-shirt. Ruffling their hair as I walked past them, I picked up Jodi from her high-chair.

              Mom and Dad decided to leave Jodi with us this time, since she always got sick following a plane ride, and they were starting to worry. Mom had left me a list of instructions that ran all the way to China.

              “Has anyone fed Jodi yet?” I called, struggling to make myself heard over the sounds of their cyber battle.

              “Yeah, I gave her half my breakfast,” Spencer answered distractedly.

              “Which was?” I asked skeptically.

              “Uh, a Pop-Tart, some cereal I found in the cupboard, and a donut Dad left in his office.”

              Oh geez. He probably poisoned the poor baby. I tucked a golden curl behind Jodi’s ear, smiling when she giggled and whacked her chubby palm against my neck. “IIbbeeee!” she squealed.

              Her luminous green eyes, the ones only Paul and Mom had, roved the room in excitement. Sometimes I wished I was like her, always excited to see the same thing I’d seen a million times already.

              “Come on sweetie, let’s get you some food,” I murmured, balancing her on my hip with one arm and opening the fridge with another. I found the food Mom had marked for Jodi and spent the next ten minutes dodging random food bits escaping her mouth. When I was satisfied she’d eaten properly, I dragged her play pen to the middle of the living room, right next to the couch, and deposited Jodi in there with her toys.

              “Make sure you keep an eye on her,” I warned my brothers. “One of us has to be home to take care of her for until Monday.”

              They made grunts of agreement, never diverting their attention from the T.V. As payback for making me feed her (and subsequently smell like baby food) I took a different route and walked leisurely in front of the T.V, obscuring their view.

              “Hey!” they cried in unison.

              “Ugh, you
suck
!” Spencer complained when his character got blown to smithereens.

              “Bye, Ivy,” Paul waved at me as I grabbed my backpack.

              I made my circuit, picking up my friends for school. Caleb was a bundle of nervous energy for his big game on Saturday, and Dana had been suspiciously quiet lately. Something was up with her, and I vowed I would get to the bottom of it.

              “It’s almost Friday!” I told them cheerfully, when in actuality the niggling worry that Asher would be absent was niggling at me once more.

              “Oh no, there’s less than a day until the game,” Caleb freaked, slumping further into his seat.

              “Chillax, you know you’re a phenomenal soccer player,” I said comfortingly. “The game will be a piece of cake for you.”

              When he didn’t look any less distraught, I reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed it back tightly before releasing me so I could drive straight.

              “Dana, what’s your issue?” I inquired. So much for waiting until we were alone. I had the patience and focus of a fruit fly, I swear.

              She sniffled. “Nothing.”

              Was she
crying?
A glance at the rearview mirror revealed Dana had indeed started to cry. Veering sharply, I parked a bit away from the school and crawled over the console to the backseat. Caleb watched Dana with concern, his worry over the game forgotten.

              “What is it?” I asked gently, wrapping my arms around her. Her head fell on my shoulder, and her tears intensified.

              “T-t-today’s my parents anniversary,” she whispered.

              Oh…of course. Dana’s mother had walked out on her and her Dad when Dana was only a baby, and while Dana had claimed she hated the woman, I knew she didn’t. Mostly, she regretted what it had done to her father. A homicide investigator and official of the law, he had been at an utter loss on how to raise a child alone, and he’d been completely in love with Dana’s mother.

              Dana was crying at the remembrance of her Dad’s pain. They must have had some conflict at breakfast.

              “After everything she did, he still doesn’t blame her for anything. He blames himself, thinks he worked too much, didn’t pay enough attention. What a load of bullcrap! He’s the best parent and person ever, and if my cold-hearted mother couldn’t figure it out, she doesn’t deserve to have him putting his life on hold for her even after all these years!” Dana scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and got out of the car. Caleb and I glanced at each other, and with unison, threaded our arms through hers on each side.

              “If it makes you feel better, I heard Brenda’s out sick today and tomorrow. Oh, and I threw up cabbage yesterday,” Caleb said, turning slightly green at the memory.

              Dana wrinkled her nose. “TMI, buddy.” But she smiled nonetheless.

              “Spencer tried to change Jodi’s diaper yesterday. Think how that went down for a minute,” I laughed. My brother had run around with the dirt diaper in a tong, screeching something about how his nose was melting and baby butt.

              Our mission to cheer Dana up succeeded. She had a huge grin on her face by first period, and she hugged both of us. “Thanks guys.”

              “What are best friends for?” I winked.

              When I slid in next to Kyle in Petrie Peters class, he was ogling the board. “Is it just me,” he started without preamble, “or does that say we have a test?”

              It did. Petrie Peters was throwing us one of her infamous surprise curve-balls, and Kyle looked like he was going to be sick. “I can’t study! I’ve got a soccer game Saturday!” he tried to reason with Petrie.

              “Your studies come before your hobbies, Mr. Callaghan. Take your seat,” she barked.

              He flipped her off the minute she turned on another student, making me giggle. That’s when I got what could only be classified as a
brilliant
idea.

              “Hey Kyle,” I said, grinning. “Are you going to Homecoming?”