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“I don’t want to shoot you, Lev.” His voice is the only proof that it’s actually him. In the dark, I can barely make out his form huddled near the dumpster.
“Then don’t,” I tell him. “I’m not here to fuck up your life. I just want to talk.”
“Fucking talk,” he snorts. “Right. Is that what Vasily told you to say? And I’m supposed to swallow that bullshit?”
“I’m not here for Vasily.” I take another hesitant step forward. “I’m here because of Vasily.”
“Step the fuck off,” he clips out. “Or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out. I don’t care.”
“You know me, Maxim.” I sigh. “You’ve known me since I was practically a kid. All I’m asking for is a few minutes. One conversation. Then I’ll leave here, and you’ll never have to see me again. Vasily will never know.”
“Sorry, kid,” he murmurs. “But whatever bullshit you’re trying to sell me today, I ain’t buying. I know he wants me dead. I’m not stupid—”
“He wants me dead too.”
A cavernous wall of silence fills the space between us as he digests my confession. Honestly, I don’t know if there’s anything I can say at this point to make him believe me. He’s been on the run for years, constantly looking over his shoulder. I’m sure the paranoia is getting to him, and I can’t blame him for that. I’ve only been at it for a few days, and I already feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.
“He wants to kill the mother of my son.” I force the words out. “Maybe my son too. Fuck if I know. It’s just me against his army. I started a fucking war, and I don’t know if I’ll even survive the week. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”
For a few long seconds, he doesn’t answer me. And I’m dead certain he’s going to tell me to fuck off again, but instead, he steps out into the light and gestures me back into the alleyway.
“Show me proof. I’m not going to listen to anything you tell me without proof.”
“Proof?” I repeat.
Christ. What the fuck can I show him?
Slowly, I retrieve the phone from my pocket, careful not to make any quick moves. Maxim watches me with calloused eyes and a face that’s aged well beyond his years. He’s only in his mid-fifties, but he looks closer to seventy right now.
“This is a picture of my son.” I turn the phone screen so he can see it. “And this is his mother. Hopefully, one day, my wife. If we survive this week.”
“Those could be anybody.” He shrugs. “Sorry, kid, but I can’t help you.”
“You can talk to her,” I tell him. “Just give me a second.”
Maxim watches me carefully as I dial Kat. To my relief, she answers on the second ring.
“Lev, is everything okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” I turn on the speakerphone. “I’m here with an old friend. And I just need you to do something for me, okay? I need you to tell him in your own words what happened with Vasily.”
The other end of the line is quiet for a pause until she releases a breath. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“It is,” I answer. “Please, just tell him. Everything in your own words.”
Kat comes through for me, starting slowly. Explaining how we met. How she got pregnant and went on the run. How I found her, and then everything imploded. Inevitably, her story leads back to everything that happened at the safe house in Philly. When she’s done, she wraps it all up with a simple sentence. “And that’s pretty much where we’re at now.”
Maxim is quiet, and I can’t read his expression. But I’m hoping that he’ll believe Kat, even if he can’t believe me.
“I’m going to hang up now,” I tell her. “I’ll be back a little later, okay?”
“Lev.” Her voice fractures. “Please be careful.”
“I will,” I assure her. “We’ll be back together before you know it.”
We both end the call, and I move my attention back to Maxim. He reeks of whiskey, but despite that, he seems to have his faculties in order.
“If what she says is true, it sounds like you’ve really gotten yourself into a bind, kid.”
“It is true.”
“Regardless”—he sighs—“I don’t want to get involved. I left that world for a reason. I don’t need you bringing trouble back to my doorstep.”
“I just need some answers. Give me one hour, and I’ll fuck off out of your life and you’ll never see me again.”
“Sounds too good to be true.” He laughs sourly. “Fucking Christ.”
“You know me,” I tell him. “I grieved for you. I believed you were dead. You were the only asshole in that place I liked.”
Maxim scratches at his stubble and chuckles. “You better not make me fucking regret this, kid.”
7
Lev
Maxim sits down in the recliner across from me, gun still clutched in his hand. We’re back at his place, and the state of his affairs is even sadder than I originally would have thought. The house is mostly just an empty shell, and in that aspect, it reminds me of my own place back in Philly. I understand the concept. When you might have to pick up and leave everything behind at a moment’s notice, there really isn’t any point in collecting things.
