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No shit. I had the best mom. She deserved better.
I owed her. I owed them both.
“I can’t,” I said quietly, then explained, “I gotta see a guy about a job.”
And when Mom looked to my pops, I could see they wanted to protest. But they couldn’t. We needed this.
“Byt' ostorozhnym,” was my father’s gentle caution.
Be careful.
“I will.” And because I knew my mother, which meant I knew her worry would consume her, I called out of the window, “Hey, Ma. You know, I was thinking. It’s been a while since you made medovik.”
Immediately, her face lit up. “You want me to make?”
No. I didn’t even like it that much. The cake was sickly sweet, but it was time-consuming, and it would help her focus on something other than the burden.
“Yeah.”
A small smile tilted her lips, and she promised, “I do it right now, and you can have some before you sleep.”
“Perfect.” I watched her walk away before calling after her, “Thanks, Ma.”
My father stood by the passenger side of my car with his hands in his pockets. His lips pursed, and his expression turned despondent as he let out a low, “You are a good man, my son.”
Was I?
I wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll see you later, Pops.” I put the car into reverse, and as I backed out of the drive, I warned, “Don’t eat all my cake.”
My father chuckled, and I grinned in return, because neither of us cared for it.
By the time, I got there, I was half mad with apprehension.
I needed to fix this. I needed to do it quick. And I only knew of one man who might be able to point me in the right direction.
So when I pulled up, stepped out of my car, and approached the front door, I raised my hand to knock and stilled when it swung open.
Ada greeted my frowning face with a serene smile. “I saw you through the window, Mr. Vik. Please, come in.” I entered, and she added, “He’s in his office.”
“Thanks, Ada.”
I strode down the hall toward Sasha’s office and knocked. He sounded distracted when he gave his permission to enter, and I went in. Without a word, I sat in the guest seat directly across from him and waited for his attention. He looked at me, and his brow rose at the sight of me. I guess I wasn’t hiding my emotions all too well.
“Viktor. You look like shit.”
Nice. My brow bunched, and I uttered a light, “Fuck you.”
Sasha’s lip twitched before he asked, “What’s up?”
Well, shit. There was no easy way to ask this. He would expect an explanation when the only one I had to give was nobody’s business. “Look, I didn’t want it to come to this, but I know you still have contacts amongst the firms, and—” I delayed a moment. “—I need a job.” Sasha’s brow lowered as I went on. “Fast. Messy. High paying.” In case he didn’t get what I was saying, I ran a hand down my face and added a strained, “You got a hook-up?”
Sasha remained quiet a long while, and when he spoke, he said all the things I hoped he wouldn’t. “How much do you need, brother? I’ll go to the bank first thing and sort you out.” But I was already shaking my head, and when he asked, “What kind of trouble are you in, Vik?” I let out a caustic laugh.
The urge to bark out a few choice expletives was there on the tip of my tongue, but I took a deep breath and quelled the impulse, looking around his office before I exhaled slowly and said, “I need money, but I’m not taking yours.” Just as he opened his mouth to argue, I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Nonnegotiable. If you can help me out by giving me a name, I would appreciate it, but this is a mess I need to take care of myself, and man-to-man, I hope you can respect that.”
For a moment, he looked to be at war with himself, but after some thought, he opened his drawer, reached into it, and pulled out a business card. With a light sigh, he turned the card over, took his pen, and began to write on it as he spoke. “There is one outfit. Newish. Reckless. The kind of psychos who run big and hard, settle scores, and shoot before they speak. They have a reputation for being wild, because… well, they are.” He continued to jot down what I needed. “The guy in charge is Roam.”
Roam.
Never heard of him.
Sasha held the card out to me between two fingers, and just when I stretched for it, he pulled out of reach. “There are other ways.”
No, there weren’t. I tried. I really did. This was my last shot.
