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our village does, is two sides of coin. But we will not give them to these monstr .”
    â€œI was away,” Alexander said angrily. “I had a business in San Diego at that time. Importing. But when they threatened my family…I had met Ricardo, you see, in the course of business.”
    â€œI was able to trace the provenance of the works back to the original owners,” Ricardo said gruffly. “That proved a blood connection to Boris. Then I was able to help him make a legal gift of the works.”
    â€œNow they hang in State Tretyakov Gallery!” Darya said proudly, her eyes shining. “Ricardo, he pay all expense for us to travel to Moscow and see! I think I will never see my village again before I die, but Ricardo made it possible.”
    Ricardo looked increasingly uncomfortable, but whether it was from the effusiveness of the old woman’s gratitude or because of the obvious gaps in the story, Chelsea couldn’t tell.
    â€œAnd now you have nice gallery,” Boris said. “Who would think it! Beautiful girl like you with such good eye for art. You are helping the artists, just like my family did all those many years ago.”
    â€œWe need to go,” Ricardo said curtly. He shook hands with both men and stooped to kiss Darya. Chelsea accepted embraces from all three and did her best to thank them, promising to return soon for dinner as she was deluged with good wishes and compliments and blessings.
    And then Ricardo practically dragged her out the door and into the night.
    â€œTonight it’s a good thing that you left your finery in the closet,” he said, leading her to a motorcycle parked at the curb.
    â€œYou expect me to get on that thing?” Chelsea said, balking. She did her best to ignore the dig about her clothes, despite wishing she had worn something else, anything else.
    â€œIt is fast, and it will get us where we are going.”
    â€œTo the apartment? Or the house?” These were the two locations he had taken her before, not counting a party in a luxurious old downtown building. The apartment was sleek, modern, and luxurious; the house was small and humble and hidden in a lush garden like a little gem in the hills above Hollywood.
    â€œThe house. But we are taking a different route. I don’t think I was followed from the airport, but…I want to be sure.”
    He handed her a helmet from the metal storage box bolted to the back of the motorcycle and took her purse from her and stowed it away. The bike was sleek in design, luxuriously appointed with a comfortable seat.
    And yet she hesitated. “I hate motorcycles,” she mumbled.
    Ricardo paused in the process of strapping his own helmet on. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the streetlights reflecting off the eye shield. When he spoke his voice was slightly muffled.
    â€œHave you ever ridden one?”
    She shook her head. “My…the man who married my mother after my father’s death.” Her stepfather, Ray, but she wouldn’t say the name aloud. “He rode one. I could always hear him pulling into the drive and there was never time to get away fast enough. It…I can’t forget that sound.”
    â€œThis motorcycle is very quiet,” Ricardo said, taking her hand. Without warning, he pressed her palm flat to his chest, covering his heart. “And the ride is very smooth. I promise you that I will be cautious. And you are with me, querida . With me, you are safe. Do you trust me?”
    â€œI—I guess so,” she faltered. The truth was that she did. In fact, she had trusted him with her life already once this night. How much did she really have to lose?
    He climbed onto the bike and turned the key, and true to his word, it purred to life with no more noise than a hybrid automobile. Chelsea tugged the helmet on, put one hand on his shoulder and stepped up on the footrest, swinging her other leg over. She could feel the vibration