Good news? I’m recognized the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up toward me. It belonged to one of my brother’s friends, which meant I wouldn’t end up a local news item tonight. Bad news? The person who driving Aston Martin was the last person I wanted to pick me up. “Get in.” He didn’t raise his voice, he never raised his voice, but I still heard him loud and clear over the rain. Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even the weather bowed to him.