"I don't even know your name. Who are you?"
"No one." I try to ignore how sitting beside her makes me hard. How the scent of her perfume fills the car until it's all I can breathe in.
"You saved my life and I don't even know what to call you."
"Yeah, well it's probably better that way. Listen I understand you had to rely on me to keep you safe but that's over now. I don't have to babysit anymore. You're someone else's problem now, okay."
The hurt I see in her big chocolate eyes guts me but there's nothing to be done about it. She has to realize how things are going to go. The last thing I need is for her to form some attachment to me. I'm no good for a girl like her. She's sweet and innocent. That was made clear by the kiss in the stairwell. It was driven home by how soft and compliant she became in my arms. I'm a god damned stranger and she just gave me her mouth to fuck. Normal girls don't do that. Normal girls realize what happens when you writhe under a man who has his hands all over the soft skin of your thigh and they don't let men like me come close to them.
What did the little cock tease do? She all but mewled in my arms like a fucking kitten. I mean who the hell does that with a stranger? An innocent girl, that's who, someone who doesn't understand enough to guard themselves against creatures like me.
As soon as we got to the station I was led to a room that reminded me a little too much of the box they tried to shove me in back in Russia. I practice breathing and wait for the detective. Detective Roberts. My fingers itch to start looking into him to see if he is a good cop or one of the dirty ones that can be paid off to do whatever the hell the person with the biggest wallet wants him to do.
I wait for what feels like hours until finally the door opens and in steps the detective from the crime scene. You can just tell he's been around for a while by the frown lines and the furrows on his forehead. This man has seen some shit. I make a snap decision to like the guy just by how he carries himself and all that he shows on his face. He has the face of an honest man.
"Mr. Dragomir," Roberts huffs his weight into a chair and looks at me with washed-out gray eyes. "You're a hard man to look for when it comes to any records. In fact, it's almost like you didn't exist until five years ago. You want to tell me why that is? 'Cause I sure as hell know you aren't five."
I look at him and wonder if my future would have been like his if things had gone differently.
"My name is Ivan Dragomir, I am originally from Russia. I used to work in...government, not unlike what you do. However, you can imagine it is not quite the same. I was called on to perform certain tasks for my government that I am sure would be deemed illegal in America. The régime I was a part of collapsed and I was given a choice. Stay and carry on doing my job or resist." I leave most of the bloodier parts out and try to brush by the not so flattering aspects of my 'job' that I am sure wouldn't make Roberts trust me any more than he already does.
"I refused. I got in contact with friends who helped me come to America to start a better life. A less violent life. And then today happened."
"Yes, Mr. Dragomir, today did happen. You seem to know what you were doing, getting you and the other victim out of the situation. Tell me about that."
"There is nothing to tell. I was standing in line for a coffee and men came in. I took the person closest to me with me and by the time I got her somewhere safe everyone else was dead. What more could I do for them?"
"How the hell did you escape in a room where everyone else is dead or dying?"
"Everyone was not dead. I saved one." I willfully misconstrue his question.
"You know what I mean, Dragomir. How did you and the woman escape to safety when everyone else got turned into Swiss cheese?"
A muscle ticks in my jaw. I sit forward and all pretenses to be a dumb foreigner who can't grasp the American language vanish. "Those people were my friends. You may not understand what that means to a man like me so I will tell you. The people in the café are more than a food reference and a file number to be put away and labeled 'random act of violence'. This was anything but random."
The look on Robert's face tells me he thinks he is getting somewhere he wouldn't otherwise if he didn't first provoke me. "Tell me why it wasn't random."
"Men don't use the guns and ammunition these guys used when they are knocking up some store for petty cash and a few wallets. They came in, looked around, and then started shooting." I sit back, disgusted at the memory of what happened. "They were trying to identify someone, making sure the target was in the group of customers."
"Why couldn't they have been there for the manager?" Roberts' eyes track me and he doesn't give much away but I can tell from years of experience that he is listening a little keener than he was just a few minutes ago.
"When the guy came through the door one of the men shot him, not all three, when they came into the café, all three of them shot at people standing in line. Whoever the target was it was someone standing in line. There were three people in front of me and one behind me. One of those people was marked for death."
"How can you be sure it wasn't you?"
I fight off the urge to roll my eyes, barely. "How can I be sure it wasn't the woman I saved?"
"I seriously doubt a risk assessment consultant is going to piss off the type of people that would shoot up an entire café just to take out one person." Roberts leans forward with his murky gray eyes boring right into mine, "But an escaped refugee with a violent past might have enemies that would take the time and body toll to find their target. And that same refugee might take a woman with him as a sort of shield or insurance that it wasn't him that got hit first."
I go back to practicing my breathing. This guy is pissing me the fuck off. He just did not try to tell me that I would take someone with me to use as a bullet holder instead of just killing the fuckers that came for me. The thought of killing him tickles the back of my mind. In this room alone there are ten ways I could do it but I fight the urge.
"I imagine that is why I kept the woman around when I found the way to the roof, and why I made sure she got to the safety of the other roof even though she wouldn't take off her shoes, which almost got us killed. It would explain why I left her in the office building after I realized I could just walk away and no one would have been the wiser. Or why I shoved her in front of me when we came to find you. Oh wait," I turn into a smart ass when I'm angry. "That's not what happened at all is it Roberts. In case you might have missed it, I took her little ass up on the roof with me and I put up with her telling me ‘no’ when I told her to get rid of the heels and I pushed her over the side of the other building. I led her out of there to the safety you offer and if memory serves me right I was the one walking in front of her."