Whiskey Poison

Chapter 5 Episode 5

I tap the folder. “You left him at the hospital. That’s what the case report says. You handed him over to a doctor.”

His jaw clenches. “Yes. Then I changed my mind.”

“You wanted the baby back?”

“Benjamin,” he repeats. “That is his name. I wanted Benjamin back..”

“So you assaulted a doctor. The report says you strangled him, actually.”

“Is he dead?” he asks rhetorically, his voice a deep rumble.

“The doctor?” I skim the report again, but surely the man being a murderer would have been mentioned front and center, right? I finally find it at the bottom of page five. “No. He survived.”

Mr. Viktorov nods like that proves his point. “If I’d strangled him, he’d be dead. I simply reminded him how much he likes breathing.”

For a brief second, I’m back in the dark, wet alley. Mr. Viktorov is standing in front of me again, rain dripping down his neck as he looms over my attacker. The only thing you need to know is I’m the man willing to separate your hands from your arms if you touch her again.

He seems to be full of helpful “reminders.”

“Why do you even want the baby? Are you the father?”

“I thought you were here to determine that.”

“I’m here to determine if you should be granted guardianship, Mr. Viktorov. Right now, I’m asking about Benjamin’s birth father.”

“But you said—I thought the child’s name was Benjamin.”

He nods. “It is. My name is Timofey.”

A leftover tremble from my dream this morning settles low in my belly. Hearing a name has never been so intimate. “Oh. Sure. Okay. Timofey.”

“I’m not Benjamin’s biological father,” he continues. “That doesn’t change the fact that he will live with me, and I’ll take care of him.”

“Last I checked, babies need a hand here or there.”

I blow out a breath and a strand of hair that has fallen out of my haphazard ponytail lifts and resettles on my forehead. I wouldn’t be surprised to find steam pouring out of my ears at this point. The man is mashing all of my buttons at the same time.

“I’m asking why a single man like you would want to care for a random baby left on your doorstep? I’ve been a social worker for seven years and this is a first for me.”

“What makes you so sure I’m single?”

The question takes me off-guard. My cheeks heat instantly. “Oh. Well, I—the chart said—I guess it didn’t exactly say. I assumed. There was no mention of anyone else. You’re alone now, so…are you single?”

There’s that flicker of amusement on his face again. It almost gives me hope that the smirking dream version of Timofey isn’t completely out of the question. What I’d give to see that smile in real life.

“I have no need for a partner. I can raise Benjamin on my own just fine.”

It’s an annoying non-answer. Annoying only because I suddenly want to know if there is a woman of the mansion wandering around somewhere. A man like Timofey surely doesn’t go too long without a warm, willing body in his bed.

He’s right, though. There’s no requirement for him to have a partner. It’s not pertinent to the case and it would be inappropriate for me to press. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to.

“As you’ve pointed out a few times now, that is what I’m here to determine,” I say. “Based on your file alone, it’s not looking good.”

He folds his large hands in front of him. I mentally measure them against my wrists, assessing how accurate my dream was this morning. How easily I would fit into them. What those fingers would feel like if they—

“What about my file concerned you?”

I blink away the dirty image. “You are a smart man, Mr. Vik—Timofey. You know my concerns.”

“I’m sure there’s a colorful list of my priors on there. Let’s focus on what matters, though: I saved your life last night.”

That tickle of suspicion from earlier finally clicks into place. And when it does, I gasp. “Oh my… oh my God. Did—did you stage what happened?”

“Your attack, you mean.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yes. My ‘attack.’ You did!” I jump to my feet. “You hired that crazy guy to attack me so you could show up and save me. You wanted to get in my good graces so I’d give you Benjamin. You… you…” I fall silent, too stunned to speak.

Timofey fixes me with a stare, the seconds ticking away.

“Well?” I demand. “Are you going to even bother denying it?”

“I’m trying to decide if I’m flattered or insulted,” he muses. “I’m going to go with insulted. The fact that you think I need to resort to an elaborate set-up to get what I want… It’s beneath me. The theory is beneath you, too. I called you stupid last night, but I didn’t actually believe it. Maybe I should rethink.”

I glare at him. “So what were you doing there, then?”

“Finally,” he breathes. “The fun part.”

Goosebumps erupt down my arms at the sinful suggestion in his voice. Was he there for me? No. No, definitely not. Why would he be?

“You seem to know a lot about me, Piper.”

“It’s Ms. Quinn.” I try to sound confident, but my voice is shaking.

His eyebrow arches subtly before he continues. “You seem to know a lot about me, Piper. Now, let me tell you what I know about you.” He plants his palms flat on his desk and rises to his full height, never once looking away from me. I have to crane my neck back to meet his eyes. “You’ve been a social worker for seven years, but you still don’t make enough money to dig yourself out of the financial hole you’re in.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m in debt. Good guess. Me and most other humans on the planet.”

“Yes, but your debt is different. It’s not even yours,” he says. “You have taken on the debt of not one, but two relatives. How are Daddy and Grandma doing, by the way? Talked to them recently?”

The air in my lungs turns sour. My chest burns, but I can’t exhale. I can’t move. Timofey and I, we’re balanced on the precipice of something. One wrong move and it will all go sideways. I’ll fall.

And I don’t have to ask to know that, this time, he won’t help me back up.

“You don’t have to answer that, actually. I already know. No one would blame you for going so long between visits. You’re a busy girl, what with work and keeping track of your friend Ashley.” He clicks his tongue in faux disappointment. “When will that girl get and stay on the wagon?”

“How do you know about Ashley?” I croak. I have the urge to reach for my phone right this second and call her to make sure she’s safe.

Timofey ignores me. “You attract addicts, but you aren’t one. Good for you for overcoming the statistics. Especially coming from a broken home. The odds were stacked against you, but you came out on top. Is that why you got in this line of work? To help kids like yourself? To give back?”

That’s exactly why I got in this line of work. But the way he says it makes it sound pathetic.

“This is illegal,” I snap. “You can’t—You shouldn’t know any of this. You spied on me.”

“Are you going to file a police report?” he asks. “I’d be surprised. You didn’t file one after your attack last night.”

I feel flayed open. Bare naked in front of those icy blue eyes.

“If you think blackmail is going to work on me, you’re wrong,” I hiss. “There is no way in hell I’m leaving a child in your care. You aren’t fit to be around other humans, let alone a child.”

He waves a hand like he’s shooing away a gnat. “Benjamin is staying here. File whatever reports you want. My lawyers will deal with them.”

I stand up, shoving my chair back. “Then why am I here? If your lawyers can handle this, why did you show up at my job last night? There was no point in bringing me here.”

“Everything I do has a point,” he says icily. His eyes are just as frosty. “You’re here because I can save myself the trouble of talking to lawyers and solve both of our problems at the same time.”

“Let me guess,” I sneer. “Money?”

“You say that like you aren’t in desperate need of some.”

“I’d never be desperate enough to accept help from you.”

“You may think you’re above being bought, but that’s only because you’ve never had the opportunity. But suddenly, your state college education and experience with children has some actual value. Rather than turn your nose up at it, I suggest you listen carefully.”

Timofey leans forward, and even though he’s still a foot away, I swear I can feel the brush of his lips on my skin. A chill races down my spine.

“You make too few pennies working too many hours. Then you come home to a tiny, overpriced apartment and stare at the ceiling while you wonder how you’re going to keep making ends meet.”

“Are you done, or are you just going to keep insulting me?”