Page 25 of The Promise

Even if Karine didn’t always like it.

“You hungover?” Demyan asked.

He glanced up to meet his son’s eyes, but Roman had them covered with a pair of dark aviators. He chuckled in response, and pulled them off his face.

“Not even close. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was actually drunk. These bloodshot eyes are because I haven’t slept in four nights.”

Demyan grunted as he took a sip of his coffee.

They were seated across from each other in the private dining room of his father’s favorite hotel. Demyan called to ask him to meet for breakfast. For the first time in his life, Roman didn’t give a shit about an early morning meeting. He didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn because he hadn’t even fallen asleep.

“How is this hotel working out for you?” Demyan asked, piercing a sausage with his fork.

Roman heard the underlying question in his father’s words. He wanted to know how Karine was. If there had been any other incidents.

That first night when they moved out of Roman’s apartment and into a hotel across town—well, that had been eventful.

To say the least.

Demyan assigned two Avdonin bulls to watch over them. Karine had encountered one of them in her suite in the middle of the night which led to another altercation. She was quickly going to start developing a reputation amongst the men if she kept attacking the bulls one by one. The last thing they needed was that.

“We’re fine there. I’m keeping a close eye on her.”

And that was one of the most significant reasons why Roman hadn’t slept in several nights. Not since they left Chicago. He wasn’t sure when he would sleep again.

“I’m looking into a safehouse,” Demyan continued, lifting his coffee for another sip.

It reminded Roman to do the same with the cup that had already been poured and waiting for him at the table. A strong cup of black coffee ... or two—would hopefully do the trick of keeping him up.

If he was lucky.

Ever since he returned to New York with a car stuffed full of problems, Roman had increasingly felt the urge to indulge in his favorite vice. Cocaine. An easy way to stay up, he made a conscious effort to ignore the fact he knew it would help him get through the current shit storm.

He also couldn’t afford to fuck things up. This was a matter of life and death, for Karine and himself. He needed clarity. His mind had to be sharp, and while coke certainly made him believe he was on top of a mountain, unbeatable, that didn’t mean he actually was. At least, sobriety taught him that.

“What’s happening in Chicago?” Roman asked, taking the conversation where he really wanted it to be. “Do we still have time to make other shit happen, or what?”

Demyan didn’t look away from his plate, careful in his reply when he said, “I’m in talks with people. Things are moving, but it’ll take time as these things usually do. I’m going to figure it out.”

He didn’t add—for Karine’s sake—but Roman knew there was a part of his father that meant just that. Through his limited interaction with her, he had started to see that his son was right. She needed professional help as much as she needed people to keep her safe.

It was a lot.

“For now, worry about not letting your mother see you while you’re ... like this,” Demyan reminded Roman, pointing the sharp prongs of the fork in his direction. “You hear me?”

Despite the warning, the two still shared a smile. His father wasn’t wrong—the last thing his mother needed was to get involved with Roman’s problems. She would only want to help, and there wasn’t a soul who loved her that could tell her no.

Roman, included.

• • •

Back at the new hotel suite, Roman tossed and turned in his bed again. He predicted another night of staying awake. It was the only way he felt completely positive that Karine was safe, and wouldn’t get herself into any trouble while everyone else slept. Other than the bulls ... and really, he was trying to keep them out of her line of sight, too.

This was not the way he’d pictured his return to New York. He would have liked to jump straight back into the chop shop scene—pick up where he left off, and pull in some easy money. He still had a few jobs up in the air when he left for Chicago which he could return to, as he had time, but for the moment, he needed to stay out of sight.

Which was bad for business.

Someone was always willing to pick up someone else’s slack on the streets. Time away from New York affected his client list and contacts—his business was going to take a serious hit. All things that pissed Roman off, and for good reason considering how well he’d been doing in a new city.