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When could I have dreamed of that?
Eyes still closed, I drift on the edges of sleep and wakefulness. In my arms, Katya stirs, drifts a kiss over my lips, then murmurs something soft that I can’t make out.
“What was that?”
“I said it feels good having you near. I feel safe. So safe. And last night was wonderful. The way you make love…”
“How is a man supposed to make love to the woman of his dreams?”
From somewhere, a snigger…
Katya freezes, then whimpers.
My eyes snap wide. Hairs rise at the back of my neck. My stomach clenches…
And together, we twist under the sheets to look out from our private world.
And there he sits. At the end of the bed, straddled across a dining chair, resting on folded arms. Romano. “So, Hickman, I see you've taken to wearing my castoffs. Didn't I pay you enough to buy new?”
Schmidt sits silent, stony-faced, a Sig Sauer in his hand, apparently held casually, but nonetheless aimed at us. Armando, his smirk ill-concealed, covers us with a Beretta 92. Not the most original of pistols, but unlikely to let him down.
Beside me, Katya trembles, but despite her rapid breathing, she remains silent.
Romano keeps talking. “… Or are second-hand goods more to your taste? Some men are like that, aren’t they? Got a taste for shop-soiled goods. Or just sorting through the trash to see what others have left behind.”
“Trash? Like the mother of your child?”
He snorts. “Who says it's mine? A high-class whore like this one. Could be anyone's. Which begs me to ask. How long have you two been fucking?” He tilts his head, his face calm, as though genuinely waiting for an answer.
“Silent then? So, it’s been a while. Did you put her up to it, Hickman? Get her to make out she was pregnant by me? What was it? Trying to pass off yours as mine? Or was it going to be some kind of rip-off-the-rich-sucker scam? See how much you could screw out of me before you took your whore and ran?”
He Tuts. “Gotta say, it was a good one. You had me fooled, the pair of you. Still, Armando here’s not so gullible as I was. He had his suspicions about you, Hickman. The way you watched her.” He cocks his head sidelong to the silent figure sitting at the back of the room. “Maybe he’ll voice them sooner next time.”
“Yes, Boss.” Armando chuckles.
Romano fishes into a pocket, producing something that glints and sparkles. The necklace. Dangling it toward Katya, he holds it up to capture the sun, fracturing the light to slant across the walls in blades and edges. “I give you diamonds, and you decide to fuck the hired help? What was that about?”
“I did nothing until you…”
“Forget it!” he snaps. “You’ve made your choices, you traitorous bitch. Now, I’ve made mine. Up. Both of you. Get some clothes on. We’re going for a ride.”
Katya rolls one way, wrapping a sheet around herself. I can’t be so modest, but I reach for the side-drawer.
Armando’s Beretta snaps toward me. I freeze.
“And what’s that about?” says Romano.
“You mentioned clothes. I assume that includes underwear?”
Romano reaches behind himself, tugs something from his belt. My Glock. “Or perhaps this is what you were looking for?”
The sheet clutched tight, Katya makes for the bathroom. “Whoa!” snaps Romano. “Out here where we can see you.”
Her voice is shaky. “My clothes are in there. Do you expect me to dress in front of Armando and Schmidt?”
Romano shrugs. “I’m sure such a talented whore is accustomed to an audience. Tell you what…” He rises from the chair. “You can dress in the bathroom. I’ll watch. It’s not as though I haven’t seen it before…” He flashes brows at me… “Eh, Hickman?”
He stands at the door, looking in. Schmidt and Armando pointedly keep their eyes on me.
