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“Just shoot me,” I say.
The man steps toward me. “The Americans have taught us the importance of motivation in this life. When you dangle a prize in front of people, or wave a gun behind them, they run faster. That’s what capitalism is all about.”
I’m not sure that’s quite true. “I don’t accept your offer. I’d rather die now.” I close my eyes.
“But surely you must understand that there must be a deepening of stakes. Otherwise I do have to shoot you.”
He should have done it already—that means he’s vested now. He wants to win. But he needs a way out. That means I have to offer him something nearly as awful as killing my mother.
There’s a special seat next to the devil for this man.
“What’s your counter offer, Adriana?”
“I can get you another eighty thousand—”
He scrunches his nose. “Don’t offer me money. The damage you did when those men died, it wasn’t monetary. I have a reputation to uphold. Weak predators become prey, remember?” He tilts his head, examining my face.
“I have a few horses,” I say.
He shakes his head again, and then he circles me, his eyes studying me. “My brother was obsessed with her?” He looks at the tall man.
The tall man clears his throat. “He was. For years.”
“But she always denied him.” He grunts. “How about this? You put what my brother wanted on the menu for me, willingly, if you lose. Instead of killing your mother if you lose, I’ll just kill you when I’m done.”
If I had a knife or a gun, I’d murder him right now. “Sure.” I grit my teeth, the words coming out clipped and flat. “It’s a deal.”
“We’ll need witnesses in the event that you lose, of course.” He smiles. “What fun would it be without people to watch?”
“I’ll need daily access to the filly, to work her, to control her feed, and to make sure her vet care’s up to par.”
“Done.” His smile broadens. “I think it’s going to be a pleasure to have you working for me.”
I hate him. Like, I really, really hate him. Maybe even worse than Leonid, who at least never demanded anything filthy. I force a smile. “Absolutely.”
I’m shaking when I walk out the door. I’m halfway home when I realize that I didn’t even ask his name.
That afternoon, when I show up at the track to run his filly, Nojus’s trainer Lukas meets me in the parking lot. He walks me through the basics of how they’ve been preparing for the race, including feeding schedule and workouts.
“I heard you just got back into town,” Lukas says. “I’m surprised you came today.”
“Your new boss motivated me,” I say.
“He’s. . .”
“Right behind you,” I whisper.
And indeed, the murderer’s nearly reached us, still wearing the same button-down as earlier. I’m pretty sure the stain on the collar is blood. “Mister Rimkus runs a tight ship,” Lukas says. “He does seem to inspire people’s energetic efforts.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” I say.
“You’re upset I came,” Mr. Rimkus says. “That’s okay. I don’t expect employees to love me.”
How magnanimous. “Let’s see what she can do.”
“Minnie,” Lukas says. “Her name’s Minnie Meteor.”
“That’s cute,” I say. “I like it.”
