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I huff. “Easy. I visited the school careers advisor and he recommended the vocation to me. Professional thug.”
She coughs a laugh. “No, seriously.”
“Seriously? I just drifted into it. I'd no particular skills except for being able to look after myself in a fight. I started off running errands for the local...” I raise hands, painting air commas… “… hard man. Over time he gave me more to do. More responsibility. One day I found I was a full-fledged member of his team and didn't know how I'd gotten there. Over time, I got poached by one gang boss after another. I moved around a lot, following the money. Eventually, I ended up with Romano.”
I shrug. “I suspect my rugged good looks and social skills are part of what got me there.” Katya’s mouth opens and closes. She stalls, floundering. “Katya, I look like the thug I am.”
She puts her knife and fork down, laying them by the side of the plate. “Your looks are against you, yes, but you're not a thug. Well…” She grimaces, clicking her tongue… “… maybe you are. But there's more to you. You’re not just a thug. I like you.”
I hold my tongue.
“Nothing to say?”
“I… like you too.”
She gazes at me steadily. “Hickman, if working for Leone made you miserable…”
“I didn't say it made me miserable. It’s a living.”
She sounds matter of fact. “Okay, it's a living. But is it a life? Were you happy? Taking orders from Leone and his ilk? You didn't start off every day with a song in your heart.”
“Hardly.” My cheeks prick heat. “It's work. Steady work. Which isn't always easy in my line. And it beats standing at the door of some night club to stop drunks going after the women.”
I turn for the counter. “More coffee?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The chalet is only a single bedroom and Katya sleeps there. I use the lounge.
However, the couch is a two-seater, and apparently the two occupants were expected to be dwarves. Unable to stretch out, I curl up, still fully dressed, facing into the back as I try for sleep.
Then, my face pushed against the upholstery, I can’t breathe. With difficulty, I uncurl, stretch out, sling my legs over the arm, and roll to face outwards.
And now I have a crick in my neck.
We need to move on from here soon…
Eventually, I settle for lying flat on my back with my legs slung over the end arm. Deeply uncomfortable as it is…
I’m going to pay for this in the morning…
… I drift off and…
A movement in the dark…
The sense of nearness…
Of a body near me…
A shadow over my face, darker than the darkness behind my eyelids.
Reflexively, reacting without thinking, I roll, snatching for my Glock.
But there’s no threat…
… and I stop in mid-roll as my brain catches up with my eyes. “Katya.” I inhale, then blow air, giving my best sheepish grin. “Sorry, I thought…” And the words congeal on my tongue.
She stands over me, unravelling the tie belt of her bathrobe.
