Her Rustanov Bully: the (possibly romantic?) tale of how I pucked around and found out
Her Rustanov Bully: Chapter 24

“Was that the hockey player who helped you with P.M.?” Val asked as soon as I walked into the shelter. She was standing so close to the window that I could almost picture her earlier, peeking through the blinds.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was so frickin’ hot?” she asked before I could answer. “Holy buckets, are you two dating now?”

“No,” I answered. Firmly. “We’re just…”

Friends? No.

Roommates? I mean, not by choice—at least not mine.

How exactly does one explain to her boss that she’s basically agreed to be someone’s companion/hostage until the end of the year? Someone who evokes confusing sensations and feelings inside her chest.

“I’m not sure?” I answered with a question mark in my voice and a little wince.

“Ooh, is this one of those situationships?” Val tidied up a few of the years-old National Geographics in the waiting area. “I was reading all about those in the Strib a few weekends ago!”

Val tutted at me over her shoulder. “It sounds so confusing for you poor girls.”

“Yeah, it is,” I admitted, unwrapping the scarf and hanging it up along with my cross-body purse (thank goodness I read something online about those being the perfect solution for girls with ADHD, or it probably would have been left behind at the student center along with my coat). “I totally agree. I have never been more confused in my life.”

“Don’t get me wrong, though.” Val suggestively waggled her ample hips as she came over to join me behind the counter. “I’d let that mega-handsome hockey player confuse me as much as he wanted, dontcha know!”

“Val!” I gasped. “You’re happily married.”

“Married, not dead,” Val insisted, grabbing the volunteer clipboard to sign me in. “And I can’t remember the last time you came early to your shift. This situationship might be good for you.”

“Okay, can we change the subject?” I asked, waving a hand in front of my suddenly hot face. Then, just in case Val’s answer to that question was no, I preempted the request with, “So, what’s going on with the Tommy Hanson case?”

Val’s wicked smile faded. “Nothing, actually. When the police went over to question that dog-abusing jackpine, they found the house empty. No car or anything. The detective assigned to the case said he called the Yolks’ coach this morning to see if he knew where Tommy had gotten off to, and the coach said he was just about to call the police because Tommy hasn’t reported to practice and nobody’s seen him since Friday’s game.”

Val brightened a bit. “They won, dontcha know. That means your situationship might lead the team to a perfect season before the Big Ten!”

I didn’t know that, actually, and it explained the extra practice Yom mentioned. But…

“Sorry, Val, I’m way more concerned about getting justice for what Tommy did to P.M. than the Big Ten.” I huffed out, trying to release the frustration building inside me. “He mentioned something about growing up on a farm when we were texting. Did the detective check there?”

“First place I sent them. Turns out, there’s evidence Tommy and his dad might’ve been running dog fights and dealing meth out of the farm instead of growing soybeans, like they claimed on their taxes.”

Well, that background information explained Tommy’s wannabe gangsta accent, along with his total lack of morals. “Any sign of him?” I asked hopefully.

“Not one.” Val shook her head. “Sorry, kid, but it looks like the two of them skipped town, and that means the detective’s out. He said it was one thing when he thought he’d be busting up a dog-fighting ring, but he’s not wasting time on someone who’s probably already left the state. Said he’s already got too many human cases on his plate.”

Dammit. My fists clenched at the thought of Tommy skipping town scot-free. After everything he’d done, he deserved to face consequences—not just for P.M., but for all the other dogs he’d hurt, too.

The thought churned in my gut like sour milk, and I had a lot of trouble concentrating during my shift—for reasons completely unrelated to the two opposing brain glitches I’d told Yom about on the ride over.

I felt utterly defeated by the time I walked out of the shelter, wearing Yom’s scarf, to catch the bus to the library.

However, I stopped short when I found Rina leaning against a black Audi, the yellow ModCloth swing coat I’d left in the cafeteria draped over one arm.

“Hey, thanks so much for bringing me my coat,” I told her, rushing over to put it on. “But I think there’s been some mistake. You were supposed to meet me at the library.”

“No, that’s not correct,” Rina answered. “I’m here to take you back to the lake house.”

“But—”

“Yom said that if you argued, I was supposed to just say, Anything List number twenty-one.”

I gritted my teeth. Apparently, Yom had already decided to exercise his option to order me to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

The memory of my lunchtime debrief with Merry and Trish floated to the surface.

Maybe it’s a mind game. He acts like the way he treated you before was just a misunderstanding, and then bam! He shows you who he really is.

What if Merry had been right? What if Yom hadn’t asked about my preference for the library out of concern but to use it against me? Maybe that table speech had been less about defending me and more about declaring his right to bully me exclusively. Son of a…

I clenched my jaw and got in the car, envisioning P.M. happy with her new family to soothe myself as Rina drove me in the opposite direction of the library.

She flipped on the local college station just as the DJ was introducing a song called “Ride of the Devil’s Teeth.”

How appropriate.

“So, are you actually a college student?” I asked, deciding to focus on the stoic woman in the front seat. The least I could do was get some intel for Trish.

Rina turned down the garage rock to answer.

“Officially, yes,” she replied in what sounded like a fully American accent. “Stepan’s been with Yom since he was a teenager, and he brought me onto the detail during my first year after he discovered I spoke Russian, was an accounting major, and enrolled in ROTC.”

“So, you were taking the same classes as Yom anyway.”

Rina nodded. “It’s easier to do our job if no one knows we’re doing it. Stepan also holds a bench position on the Yolks, and don’t be surprised when he joins you in your non-fieldwork classes starting tomorrow.”

“What?” Alarm replaced my curiosity about her assistant to the villain origin story. “Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top? I don’t remotely need that level of protection.”

“Yet, it was necessary for me to intervene today.”

“That was a one-off—okay, a two-off if you count making sure P.M. got vet attention,” I admitted. Unlike Yom, my DISC compliance score was 93%. “But I don’t have any other doggie rescue stings in the works. And thanks to Yom’s speech, me and my food should be safe—wait, go back.”

A new realization stopped me short. “Are you saying you’ve been trailing me all day?”

Long silence. Then: “You should talk to Yom if there’s a change in my schedule you’d like to make.”

That’s exactly what I planned to do… whenever he got back to the house for dinner.

After Rina dropped me off, I stormed toward my guest room, ready to use more of my precious study time to make a list of counter-demands.

But I stopped short as soon as I threw open the door.

“Oh my God!” I gasped when I saw what he’d done to my room.